


Secrets, Bittersweet Memories, and Dolly Parton Goodbyes

by KayCee1951



Category: The Dukes of Hazzard (TV), The Dukes of Hazzard - All Media Types
Genre: Crime, Drama & Romance, F/M, Multiple Locales, Mystery, No Spoiler Tags, Plot Twists, Story is NOW COMPLETE, Tissues optional, Will the real Enos Strate please stand up, but there may be tears, laughter too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 58
Words: 168,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25267573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KayCee1951/pseuds/KayCee1951
Summary: It's 1997. After 10 years of "shoot-outs, gang wars, and a tour on the SWAT team," on the streets of L.A., Enos Strate returns to Hazzard for the Reunion! only to have his heart stomped on again.  While Daisy tries to figure out what the man she left at the altar in front of the whole of Hazzard County really means to her, Enos returns to his adopted home of Los Angeles -  where he and his fellow detectives plunge headlong into a murder investigation with ramifications that will change his life forever - in more ways than he could have imagined.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Part 1 - Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note:
> 
> Never in my wildest imagination did I envision this story, a fanfiction, either at its inception or its infancy, reaching the scope it has.
> 
> The concept for the story began as a few chapters, practice for character development. It was conceived originally as an exercise in exploring how to reimagine an underutilized canonical character to be more than originally written for TV and to raise him from the depths of obscurity and the mundane. And to write it from a 21st-century perspective.
> 
> Although, I must give some credit to the writers, because they, either by accident or design, provided the bedrock on which my vision of the character is based. If the writers supplied the bedrock, Sonny Shroyer’s vision and execution of his character supplied the concrete on which I built this story.  
> After that, the story, as well as the original characters I created during the process, began to take on a life of its own and carried me well beyond my original meager vision; and beyond the limit of what I thought my capabilities were.
> 
> I have learned more about the problem of human trafficking, efforts to combat it, and the forces that feed, it than I thought I would – some of it eye-opening. At times, the research took precedence over the writing.
> 
> Some may find the content a bit dark in places. Some may find that it doesn’t delve deeply enough. I will let you be the judge.
> 
> Other than the days when I stared at a blank screen hoping inspiration would strike me like a gamma-ray from the far reaches of space, I have enjoyed every minute of the journey.
> 
> I would be remiss if I didn’t attribute the unfolding of this story to finding and communicating with WENN9366, who inspired and challenged me to reach higher and farther than I ever thought I could – Thank you!
> 
> I would also like to thank my family for their support and for providing feedback and suggestions throughout the process. Love you all to Vulcan and back!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Synopsis of Dukes of Hazzard-Reunion! can be found at the end of this chapter.

**Part One: Once in a Blue Moon**

This story begins after the Reunion! movie ends...Enos Strate has returned to Los Angeles and Daisy Duke has returned to Duke University.

**Part One - Chapter One:**

_**Saturday, May 17, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

The sun was disappearing below the horizon and, spread out like an endless runway, the lights of Los Angeles were beginning to twinkle. A few bats darted in the periwinkle twilight and, just to the west, the Hollywood sign stood over the city like an invitation.

Behind the observatory, within the scrub brush of the hill and the forested areas of Griffith Park beyond, the peace and quiet had been shattered by police sirens. Park rangers had discovered the battered and partially dismembered body of a young girl. The Southern edge of the park had effectively been cordoned off including all trails and ingress/egress roads in the search areas.

Detectives Inez De Pina and Enos Strate, showed their IDs to the officer at the parking lot barricade and parked close to the trailhead. The only public access to the observatory at the top of the hill was the one leading into the main parking lot.

Lt. McCaffery was waiting for them when they signed in and made their way to the taped off area outside the core crime scene. Cadaver dogs were being deployed, to search the outlying areas in every direction beyond the main perimeter for missing body parts. Markers had already been placed and a pre-searched and documented pathway to the tent had been established with metal stakes and police tape.

"We secured the observatory for about half an hour until forensics determined the victim was killed somewhere else and dumped here," McCaffery said. "ME's still making her preliminary evaluation. She’s estimated the girl's body was probably deposited here at least four hours ago."

"How old was she, Lieutenant?" Enos asked, bracing himself for the answer.

"Maria estimates between twelve and fifteen."

McCaffery shook his head and forged on, "No ID on or around the body. Unies are getting a list of visitors and have canvased the passengers of vehicles exiting the observatory parking lot. Greer and Torres are there now," he pointed up to the observatory buildings with his pen, "getting the information on visitors waiting to see the," he looked at his notes, "the 8:45 show in the planetarium. The observatory admin liaison," he looked at his notes again, "Gordon Prescott, asked that we not interrupt the schedule or alarm visitors any more than is necessary. So, we barricaded the road from the entrance to where the exit meets the main park road. Traffic's been rerouted and they'll close the observatory lot at 10."

McCaffery led the way into the tent.

Proximity to victims' bodies was nothing new to Enos; he had seen his share growing up a moonshiner’s son in the hills of north Georgia, then as a sheriff’s deputy, and in his ten years as a police officer with the LAPD.

Children who died by violence?

Those were the worst of the worst of calls and they conjured up unsettling memories. He felt the sick rise to his throat and barely managed to force it down. At least while he was taking notes, he could concentrate on something other than the anger – and the memories.

De Pina asked the medical examiner if she had any preliminary cause of death yet.

"Nothing visible, the severed arm and foot notwithstanding. I'll know more when I get her back to the shop."

McCaffery turned the scene over to De Pina, asking for a report by 7:00 am, informing her he had to go to the scene of a drive-by.

"Maria?" Inez asked, after the lieutenant had left.

"Got it. I'll get you as much as I know before then, just be prepared to paste it into your reports at the last minute."

"Thanks, you can send it to E," Inez turned toward Enos.

"E," De Pina beckoned. Then, when she received no response, she called louder. "E!"

"Sorry...I was gettin' some thoughts down while they were still in my head."

She eyed him for a second, understanding that some of the thoughts in his head had nothing to do with making observations about the victim or the crime scene.

"Why don't you go up to the observatory and see if Torres and Greer have found anyone who saw anything."

"Sure thing," he answered flatly, stuffing his notebook and pen in the pocket of his suit jacket.

De Pina watched him as he ascended the hill, then shook her head and groaned loud enough for Maria Flores to notice. _It was a good thing there were two thousand miles between her and that Duke woman._

~~~~~*~~~~~

After inquiries of the staff and maintenance crew turned up nothing substantive at the observatory, Enos asked Greer to get hold of De Pina, shaking his head at himself for being so absent minded as to leave his radio in the car.

"Inez," he said when De Pina answered.

"I'm here. You find anything?"

"Nothin' so far. I'm releasin' Torres and Greer. You gonna' be much longer?"

Enos Strate's Blue Ridge Mountain accent, the thickness of which could be turned on or off at will, came and went with his mood, or necessity, or how much sleep he had lost. The dial was set on the thick side tonight.

"Looks like we'll be here awhile…why?" she asked, knowing E was well-aware of how long it was going to take before they could wrap up at the scene. Another indication his head wasn't in the game.

"Nothin'. Just want to look around’s all, see if I can turn anything up here?"

"Take your time E,” she sighed, “this poor child's not going anywhere anytime soon."

~~~~~*~~~~~

It was 9:55 pm when Enos decided he was not going to find anything more, at least not tonight. After speaking with the technical staff, he sat through the last part of the planetarium show without conscious awareness of the content; only that it had managed to carry him out of himself for some twenty odd minutes with the intention of speaking with the narrator. Why he thought the woman might have anything to contribute he would not have been able to explain to De Pina, or anyone else. He was going through the motions. Work and routine were the only things keeping him from falling into a pot of self-pity.

Three weeks had gone by since he and Daisy had almost tied the knot. After all the long years...all the long, lonely years...they had nearly made it, and she had left him at the altar in front of the whole of Hazzard County.

He had told her he would be waiting when she grew up. As always, he was riding on the ever present, addictive hope she _would_ ‘grow up’ someday.

He’d had hope, when he was in her presence, when she was flesh and blood standing near to him. By the time he finished his report on his part in Mama Jo’s capture and arrest at the Hazzard County Sheriff's office that Saturday, any hope that remained had given up the ghost.

He went back to the motel, packed, headed for Atlanta, dropped off the rental car, and took the first plane he could book back to L.A. When the plane landed at LAX, he relied on the little bit of self-respect he had left and forced himself to walk out of the terminal, get into the first cab he could hail, and go back onto the streets of Los Angeles. He knew if he had stayed or if had gone back it would be the end of him.

Now, he felt like the exploding star that had been projected onto the domed ceiling, collapsing in on itself until it became a black nothingness sucking the life out of everything close to it.

He only snapped back to awareness of where he was and what he was supposed to be doing when the narrator tapped him on the shoulder.

"Detective, I'm sorry, but if there's nothing else we can do to help you tonight, maintenance wants to lock up and I need to go home."

Flustered and suddenly reverting to clumsy Hazzard deputy mode, he asked her no questions, thanked her, apologizing profusely for keeping her so late, and left the observatory as fast as he could without falling over his own feet.

_**Tuesday, May 20, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

De Pina had apparently had enough of E's doldrums, because she took him aside before the Monday morning briefing and gave him an ultimatum: she _did not_ want to pull rank on him _‘but either he snapped out of it or else.’_ His work was suffering and if he kept up this blue funk, she was going to have to make an official recommendation for therapy.

After a good deal of arguing that he would quit being a cop before becoming a bad one, he finally said, "Work's all I got right now, Inez. I know I haven't been up to par lately...I really am workin' on it. Let me handle it on my own. Please."

De Pina, as she usually did, put her trust in him to be a man of his word, the man she had come to know and to care about.

"Alright, I won't make it official, E. For now. You need help. If you can't talk to me, and obviously you can't or we wouldn't be having _this_ conversation…please, please, talk to someone."

~~~~~*~~~~~

By Tuesday, Enos had twelve cases in his tray, in various stages of investigation, and another two deposited on his desk. In addition, he had two witness interviews scheduled and he needed to read the Medical Examiner's preliminary report on the Griffith Park victim. Plus, he was assisting in chasing down information to support seven other ongoing investigations for major crimes.

He wished he had more.

Before lunch, he had written four reports, called twenty-four pawn shops, written seven emails to other law enforcement agencies, and had almost completed an application for a search warrant due to go to a judge by 2:00 pm.

At least, he had finally gotten a decent night's sleep. Being with Kate last night _had_ helped. She didn't judge; she didn't insist he should snap out of it; she didn't want to know 'why'. Kate's apartment was a safe space, and the irony of their relationship was not lost on him.

Enos shoved those thoughts aside. He made the trip downstairs to the food truck and ordered a mulita with all the extras. Eating at his desk, he was able to submit the warrant application to the unit commander for approval by noon. After finishing off the mega-wrap he turned his attention to the Griffith Park file and the ME's preliminary report.

It had been more than forty-eight hours since the girl's established time of death, between 8:00 pm and 9:00 pm on Friday night. The forty-eight-hour window had passed for any local missing person report to be in the system. He found nothing.

The rest of the afternoon was spent expanding the search for missing persons in the tri state area of California, Nevada, and Arizona.

~~~~~*~~~~~

When the week failed to turn up anything on the identity of the Griffith Park Jane Doe, Enos began to question if she would ever be identified. Even though beaten with what Maria described as 'something like a two by four,' the body had been scrubbed clean and had yielded no particulates that might, while they could not identify her, point to where she was killed...he might have been able to track her backwards from there.

He made an entry in the file notes: 

_If the arm and foot were amputated to hide her identity, why Griffith Park? Why public place like observatory?_

He would have to wait until something showed up out of the blue or until the minimum three-week period for missing persons from other police jurisdictions to appear in the national database.

Reluctantly, he set the file aside and turned his attention to the string of uniform thefts across several regions of the City of Angels and started cross referencing them with other crimes involving uniformed perpetrators.

Then, he called Kate to ask if he could swing by after work for the fifth time in as many days.

_**Monday, May 26, 1997 – Durham, North Carolina** _

The bookstore at Duke University was about to close. Daisy had put off buying the supplies she needed until her paycheck hit her account and she was hurrying to get what she needed after work.

Between work and her dissertation, the draft of which should have been completed by now, the candle she had been burning at both ends was about to meet in the middle. She hadn't been able to get a decent night's sleep in a month.

Hurriedly gathering the supplies, she headed to the register. Next to the counter, the Los Angeles Times screamed at her accusingly from the top of the newsstand shelf. She tried to redirect her focus on Durham's local Herald-Sun next to it instead, turning away only when the twenty something behind the counter got her attention. When the guy asked, _“Will that be all?”_ she reached for the L.A. paper and eased it surreptitiously onto the counter, as if the whole scenario was playing out in slow motion. Glaring back at her was a helicopter view of police officers behind cars, guns drawn, with a heading that read _Police Standoff in Van Nuys._

She whispered at the photo, "I don't think he works in Van Nuys." _Besides, none of the officers had sergeant's chevrons on their sleeves._

"Pardon?" asked twenty something.

"Nothing. How much do I owe you?"

When Daisy got back to the apartment, one she shared with three other women, she threw the paper into the trash can in her bedroom. It was her turn to cook, so she set about the task of getting supper ready.

She remembered cooking dinner. She remembered eating; except it seemed like something someone else had done. The thick multi-sectioned paper in the other room intimidated and unsettled her like the rhythmic ticking of a clock. Why she had picked it up, let alone bought the damn thing, she didn't know?

Vague comments from her roommates came drifting through the din:

_"Girl, have you even looked in a mirror in the last week? Your hair looks like birds nested in it."_

_"Sweet Pea, why don't you call the guy, because this look is not good on you."_

_"This cryin' in your soup's not gonna get that draft finished."_

She excused herself from the table without answering, disappeared into her room, and closed the door. The paper glared at her from the waste basket. She reached for the phone, as she had many times since that day. Like all the other times, she put the receiver back down without making the call. If she called, she would have to call information first…she didn't even know his number.

What would she say to him? Would she only be opening a wound? Her wound or his? Why had she done it - any of it?

Without answers, she drew the paper out of the bin, folded it over, curled up around it on the bed and, finally, thankfully, found sleep.

~~~~~*~~~~~

The next morning, Daisy awoke staring at the closet and all the heartache it contained, still clutching the folded Los Angeles Times, as if _Enos_ was secreted somewhere within its pages.

At some point in life, everyone gets a wake-up call. She thought hers had been the day she divorced L.D.

Marrying L.D. had only been a bad decision - a mere hiccup compared to the day she jilted the only man she had ever truly loved. That was a long time ago. He had been so far away for so long. His choice? She didn't know. An avalanche of memories overwhelmed her.

Saturday, a month ago, Enos had, just-like-him, so gently and gracefully told her he was willing to wait until she _grew up_. Then, he had stayed through most of Bertha Jo and Bubba's wedding reception, the one that was supposed to be theirs, trying to maintain some dignity while she was trying not to humiliate him any more than she already had. Somehow, over the long years since they were sixteen, the scenario had become the norm for them, until he left the last time. She had given up thinking he would ever come back. And definitely not just for her.

_Why did L.D. have to show up?_

Bertha Jo and Bubba had been married under the wedding arch that was supposed to be for her and Enos, with Daisy's bridesmaids in attendance. Bertha Jo and Bubba had toasted with their champagne, eaten their cake, and danced to the music that was supposed to be hers and Enos's first dance as a married couple. She was still wearing her wedding dress through the whole day!

The rest of the day was even more bizarre and surreal. Everyone tried to act as if nothing of consequence had happened. She and Enos had avoided getting too close to each other; separated by the multitude of friends and family surrounding them. No one knew what to say, least of all her. She told herself she would find him later, when they could be alone, and beg him to forgive her. _Because he always forgave her._

What she had done weighed more heavily on her with every passing minute of the excruciating pretense. It was so civil, so Hazzard. She would have suffered less if Enos had slapped her in the face.

But no. He just slipped quietly away.

When he left the reception, he gave her a weak smile and a half wave, then disappeared into the crowd. It was the last time she saw him.

~~~~~*~~~~~

After managing to free herself of friends and family around 9:00 p.m., she set out to find him. The night clerk at the motel told her Enos had checked out, leaving no forwarding information.

Enos's Aunt and Uncle had been at the reception, then left when everything went pear shaped. Knowing she would get a cold reception, even if they agreed to speak to her at all, she called Judy and Frank Strate from the motel. She wasn't wrong about the cold reception. However, they couldn't tell her anything because they hadn't heard from Enos since the afternoon.

The only other place left she could think of was the Sheriff's office. Adding insult to injury, instead of Cletus, she ran smack into Sheriff Rosco, decked out in all his tasseled splendor.

"Daisy Duke! Shame, shame, ever' body knows your name. You're not welcome here!"

Rosco was the only one in Hazzard County that day who had no reservations about speaking his mind and she couldn't blame him. If she was being honest with herself, it brought her a moment of relief. Rosco might be a rotten Sheriff, a scoundrel, and a chiseler, but when it came to Enos, he was as protective as a mama bear with her only cub.

She grabbed him by the shirt with both hands. "I know, Rosco. I know. I just want to find him to tell him how sorry I am." Her contrition showed in her eyes wet with tears and her head suddenly thrust onto his chest.

Rosco awkwardly patted her shoulder while she sobbed into his uniform. He was ill-suited and under-equipped for touchy-feely stuff.

"Please, tell me where he is," she pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Daisy. You're too late."

Daisy pulled back, still seizing him by fistfuls of shirt.

"What do you mean I'm too late?!"

"Cletus said Enos came in here about five o'clock and wrote up a report on his part in the apprehension of Mama Jo and her gang for the State Prosecutor's office and then he left."

"Where'd he go?"

"Cletus asked him that…an' Enos said he was goin' home. I got…"

"That was four hours ago. I talked to Aunt Judy and Uncle Frank. They haven't seen him."

"You didn't let me finish, now. I got a call from him a half hour ago." Rosco took both of Daisy's hands in his. "Daisy girl, he's on his way _home_ …to Los Angeles."

He hadn’t told her goodbye...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Synopsis of Dukes of Hazzard: Reunion!
> 
> After being an LAPD officer in Los Angeles for the last ten years, Enos Strate returns to Hazzard during the reunion that is being held near the end of April, 1997. 
> 
> Cooter Davenport is a Congressman, Boss Hogg has died and left his dubiously earned ‘empire’ to Rosco P. Coltrane (now Boss Rosco), Luke Duke is a smoke jumper for the US Forest Service, Bo Duke is a driver on the Nascar circuit. Uncle Jesse is still holding down the fort at the farm, and Daisy Duke is completing her graduate studies, going for a PhD in Ecology, at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina.
> 
> After summoning up the courage to ask Daisy out on a date, Enos boldly kisses her before they leave for the Boar’s Nest, something that takes Daisy completely by surprise and Enos says he has been planning to do that for years, ever since she kissed him goodbye when he left for Los Angeles [the first time in 1981]...”it was worth the wait...almost.”
> 
> At the Hazzard Swamp, touted as the place Hazzard folks “have used for serious courtin,’” Enos confesses that the only reason he came back to Hazzard was that, after “gang wars, shoot-outs, and a tour on the SWAT team,” he has finally gotten up the courage to ask her to marry him, presenting her with a diamond ring. She accepts, although it is only after she drops the engagement ring in the grass while noticing a new species of fern.
> 
> After Daisy is kidnapped by the bad guys Mama Jo Maxx and her gang, Bo, and Luke and Enos have to find her in time for the wedding that is to be held at the end of the race in front of all of Hazzard County. They outsmart the bad guys, of course, win the race and now it’s time to have the wedding. Daisy is in her wedding dress, the bridesmaids, with Bertha Jo Barlow as her maid of honor. [It should be noted that the back story is about Bertha Jo and Bubba who are not only competitor in the Hazzard Strong ‘Person’ Contest, are in love.] The cake is delivered and Rosco begins the ceremony when a band tour bus pulls up and who should get out of it but Daisy’s ex-husband, L.D.
> 
> Well, she is so overwhelmed by him showing up that she faints. When she comes to, she realizes she’s not ready to get married yet. Enos seems to understand, saying that she threw an apple peeling over her shoulder when he first arrived in Hazzard, landing at his feet, and it formed an ‘S’ for Enos Strate and that they are destined to be together. He says he will just have to wait for Daisy to grow up.


	2. Part 1 - Chapter 2

**Part One - Chapter Two:**

_**Thursday, June 5, 1997 – Los Angeles, California to Hazzard County Sheriff's Department** _

With a rare Thursday off, only achieved through multiple double shifts over the previous month, Enos decided to return Rosco’s call.

He never thought of him as Rosco, or even Rosco P. Coltrane – always Sheriff. Though he often couldn't respect the underhanded things Rosco did, especially when Boss Hogg was alive, he still respected the badge and as long as it was attached to Rosco, he would address him accordingly.

_When Rosco picked up the phone, Enos said, "Hey, Sheriff, it's me, Enos Strate."_

"You, dipstick! Don't you think I recognize that high pitched voice o' yours after all these years?"

Enos had, unconsciously, slipped back into Hazzard mode. It was more relatable for the folks back home.

"I tried to call you yesterday but all I got was your blamed answer machine," Rosco said.

_Enos lowered the register to his normal L.A. voice. "I know, Sheriff, that's why I'm callin' you back. Everything okay back there in Hazzard? Everybody okay?"_

"Everybody's fine here...'cept who do you think's back in Hazzard? I'll tell you who. Ezra Bushmaster, that's who."

_"Whatever that snake oil salesman's sellin', it can't be good."_

"Oh, he's got this hair-brained scheme ta' make money for the hospital fund. You know Boss Hogg run him outta town a long time ago 'cause he found out Ezra was crookeder'n he was, remember?"

_"I remember Mr. J.D. said Ezra was slimier'n an eel and sneakier'n a snake, so I'd be real careful buyin' in to whatever he's sellin', Sheriff."_

"Well, don't you worry Enos, you can't fool Rosco P. Coltrane, no sir."

" _Yes, sir, Sheriff."_

Enos made a note to run a check on Ezra Bushmaster to see if the slimy son-of-a-gun had any open wants, warrants or was the subject of any current investigations so he could pass on the information about where they could find good ole Ezra to the Georgia State Police.

"So, Enos, what you been up to? Been stuffin' em' and cuffin' em' now you're a real live big city detective."

_"How'd you find out, Sheriff?"_

"Yeah, you didn't know I knew, did ya'. And never you mind how I found out, dipstick. What I wanna know is why you didn't tell nobody."

_"Just didn't seem to be any opportunity, Sheriff. But I'm glad you know, you givin' me my first job as a law officer an' all and 'specially after takin' me back, you know after I came back from L.A..."_

"Well, the governor of Georgia had somethin' to do with it. Never did find out why, though."

_"It doesn't matter, Sheriff. Just glad you took me back."_

_Enos had needed something to take his mind off why he'd left Los Angeles in '81 and the nearly mindless job of being Rosco's Deputy had filled the bill._

"So how long you been sittin' on that particular bitta’ news?"

_"I passed my exam about six months ago."_

"Six months...Well, don't tell anybody, 'cause they'd think I've gone soft, and it'd damage my spectacular reputation, but I'm proud of ya', boy. Real proud." Rosco wiped a tear from his eye and looked over at Flash the Third laying curled up on last Sunday's edition of the Los Angeles Times.

_"I promise, Sheriff, I wouldn't wanna' ruin your reputation. But only if you were to promise not to mention to anybody about me gettin' my shield."_

"I don't know why you wouldn't want anybody to know."

_"Just prefer not, Sheriff, if you don't mind."_

"Well, I still don't understand why, but it is you...I guess if you don't want anybody…"

_"Sheriff, you heard anything from Daisy? She doin' alright?"_

Rosco held his hand over the receiver and turned to Flash III. "Now why'd he have to go and bring her up for? Haven't I got enough secrets to keep? What am I gonna' tell him?"

Flash looked bored.

"You're not any help at all to your Daddy." He took his hand off the receiver. "Hey, Enos, you still there?"

_"Yes, Sir. I'm still here, what happened to you?"_

Rosco made crackling noises into the phone. "There must be somethin' wrong with this connection...I was just consultin' with one of my trusty deputies on an important matter."

_"I thought Cletus was still your only Deputy."_

"Well, I got other resources I use, 'cause you know Cletus is dumb as dirt. And that's a fact."

Now Enos's daddy had taught him he shouldn't make fun of those that just couldn't help being what they are… however, Cletus wasn't the brightest bulb in the blister pack and Flash probably was a step up on the evolutionary scale.

_"I'm glad you got other resources. I guess I'll be sayin' so long now, Sheriff. I just wanted to call and check-in. I thought I'd call you next month on the first Thursday. If you don't mind, just to see what's goin' on?"_

"Well, I'll look forward to it, Enos. You take care okay?"

_"I will Sheriff. Bye now."_

When Enos hung the phone up he shook his head. Some folks may think Rosco was the one that's dumb as dirt, but he managed to get around the question about Daisy. He had vacillated about whether asking about her at all was a smart idea and wasn’t ready to push the issue. Rosco wasn't exactly known for keeping things close to the belt unless it was about Boss's scurrilous schemes.

When Rosco hung up the phone, he turned to Flash again.

"I wish my little fat buddy, Boss, was here. He'd know what to do. Course, it'd probly be somethin' underhanded and sneaky like holdin' information from Daisy for ransom."

He got up and went over to Boss's memorial portrait on the wall and put a cover over it. "Sorry, little fat buddy, but you wouldn't approve o' doin' somethin' for free."

Rosco picked up the phone and punched in the North Carolina number Daisy Duke had left for him.

_**Monday, June 9, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

True to his word, Enos's work started improving over the subsequent couple of weeks or so. If he was still not the same as before, at least he was acting like a cop again and not a wounded puppy. Inez did not know how, nor did she care. That is until she saw him coming out of an apartment building off Wilshire Boulevard late one night.

Though his mood seemed to have improved, and she had stopped watching his every move, he was being secretive. He would leave work, but he was not going home to his apartment. If he had been home, the duty log would have shown him 10-10A, off duty at home. He was logged as 10-7B, out of service – personal.

He wasn't at any of his usual haunts or the community center. In fact, they had seen little of him until just the past week or so and then only briefly to check on what he might be able to help with. She found some encouragement in the fact that he was getting back into something he enjoyed.

So, signing out a vehicle from impound, she followed him one night, berating herself the entire time. It was unprofessional. But, when it came to E, professional detachment was a challenge. When he parked outside the Hamilton Street apartment building and went inside, she waited. And waited. And she told herself he must be following up some lead or was visiting one of his confidential informants. _He was probably just making a courtesy call on a victim's family. He did that kind of thing off the clock. But, although he rarely announced it, he was never secretive about it._

Two hours later, he exited the building, got into his silver F150, and left. Inez sat in her car for more than fifteen minutes trying to decide what to do. She finally said, "Screw it," and got out.

A quick perusal of the names of tenants revealed that K. Broussard lived in Apt B and Inez knew for a fact he wasn't following up on any lead.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Inez and Enos, while they were partnered in a squad car for eight months in 1987-88, had encountered Kate when she was twenty-two...before the accident...before she started calling him 'E'. He was a probationary officer back then, freshly minted from the LAPD academy. Inez was his training officer. Much older than most rookies and having been on the streets of L.A. with Turk Adams in '81, he'd had the pluck to do it the right way this time around. She admired him for that.

Kate Broussard had been born and raised in New Orleans and had come to Los Angeles in the early 80s, like a lot of other would-be starlets, to make a name for herself in Hollywood. Now thirty, Kate was a curvaceous five-foot-eight bombshell, with piercing green eyes, voluminous auburn hair that reached her shoulders, and an infectious personality. However, those attributes had not made her a star. Like too many other young girls who came to L.A. looking for their big break, she had fallen into prostitution.

By all accounts, she had been good at it and highly paid. At some point, however, she had taken a good look at her life and wanted out, especially when she managed to get herself mixed up with a pornography ring. When she found out they were using children, she was desperate to bust up the operation and stay alive at the same time. Getting Kate out of a mess and was a feat Inez would not have thought possible. However, they had done it, mostly due to E's fierce tenacity. Once you were a friend of E's he would go the distance for you.

It was the first time Inez came up close and personal with the real Enos Strate. Not the country-boy façade that he let most of the world see, but the layers underneath to which only a chosen few were privy.

Inez pushed the button on Kate's mailbox.

"Did you forget something?" asked the slinky, inviting voice on the other end of the intercom.

Inez hesitated, then pressed the button again. "It's not Enos, Kate. It's Inez De Pina."

The voice lost its silkiness and changed from inviting to cautious. "What can I do for you?"

"I need to talk to you."

"Does Enos know you're here?"

"No."

Inez waited, but the voice on the other end had gone silent.

"Kate…I'm worried about him. I just want to talk. That's all."

The buzzer sounded and Inez heard the lock bolt click on the building's entry door.

Once inside Kate's apartment, Inez took an inventory of the surroundings. She hadn't had any contact with the woman in more than eight years. The place was…subdued, conservative. She wasn't certain of what she had expected.

While Kate went to get a glass of wine for herself and a cup of coffee for her, Inez suddenly felt the urge to bolt. E might never speak to her again if he found out she had followed him, let alone intruded into…whatever this was. Still, she couldn't seem to help herself.

While pouring the wine, Kate said, "It's not what you think, you know."

"I don't know what you mean."

"I'm not providing him with…professional services. I don't do that anymore."

"I wasn't thinking that," she lied.

"Because you don't think he's capable of…"

"Don't put words in my mouth."

As they stared each other down, Inez picked up the coffee and took a small sip just to have something to do. It was mellow and smooth; the special Louisiana blend E kept at the office.

"Does he come here a lot?" Inez asked, trying to remain casual.

"We've kept in touch over the years, but he's never been inside this apartment until recently."

"Recently…because you just moved here or recently in the last couple of weeks?"

Ignoring Inez's obvious baiting, Kate answered, "Three weeks, actually."

Now, Inez wanted to bolt. After all, it was none of her business if he was sleeping with Kate.

She couldn't believe the thought had actually taken definite form in her mind. She found the possibility both nauseating and ludicrous.

"Look, I know we didn't exactly bond during our little adventure years ago," Kate said. "But I'm going to give you a pass for his sake and because I know you're worried about him. He's your friend. He saved your life, I get it. You are not the only member of the Enos Strate fan club."

Kate got up and started to light a cigarette, then turned back to Inez. "Unless it's something more."

"More what?"

"Than...just a friend."

"He's part of my unit. I've invested time and effort into his training. I am simply protecting my investment and that of the LAPD. And yes, he is a valued friend."

"Yeah...right. What is it you want to know?" Kate decided not to light up, she didn't smoke when Enos was around, and instead sat back down across from Inez and took a fairly large swig of her wine.

Inez shook her head, sighed, and said, "I'm not sure. I didn't think that far ahead when I saw your name on the mailbox."

"Shocker, huh? Virginal cop visits former hooker on a regular basis. Story at nine."

Inez didn't have a snappy comeback. She was still too stunned and pissed.

Kate looked into her nearly empty wine glass. "Regardless of what some people think, he's neither an altar boy nor a poster boy for the Scouts... and there is _nothing_ wrong with that man's libido. He just keeps it on a very, very short leash." She peered over the glass at Inez, as if the statement was a question.

"I know."

"And that's why you're worried? About him being here, I mean."

"Yes, damn it." Inez understood why he couldn't confide in her, _but why Kate…_

"We _just_ talked…eventually," Kate said, and seeing the conclusion-jumping behind De Pina's eyes, added, "The first couple of times he came by, he was pretty quiet. I mean never-seen-him-that-way-before quiet. We had coffee, watched some TV and he left. I gave him the decaf by the way – he already seemed to be wired tighter than a clock spring. Then, one night he just started talking. At first, it was just generalization. I let him talk until he finally started talking, and I mean he talked _a lot_ , about what had him so twisted up."

"So…you know what happened?" Inez asked. "I mean when he went back to Georgia in April?"

Kate snorted, "You mean when the bitch broke his heart?"

~~~~~*~~~~~

"Thank you, God!" Inez groaned and collapsed back on the couch cushion. _It feels good to hear someone actually say it out loud._ Loyalty to E had kept her from saying it in her own head! "Wait, you didn't say that to him."

"Are you kidding?!" Kate said, "He would never forgive me."

"Yeah, I'll be lucky if he forgives me for this when he finds out."

"He doesn't have to know."

Inez pulled a face. "Do you know him at all? It's bad enough I've been sneaking around behind his back. Lying to him about it will just make it soooo much worse. Man can read guilt on my face like I was the morning paper."

"Then just don't say anything at all."

"I'm not sure the sin of omission is any better, but it might keep me off his 'you're dead to me' list."

"You're over-reacting."

"Hello. L.A. Times." Inez, said, making a 'you see this' gesture to her face and then let it slump into her palms. "Geez, I really did not think this through."

Kate kept silent.

Inez got up from the couch and started pacing, ranting about how Daisy had led him on and crushed him like a bug.

When Inez looked as if she was running out of steam, Kate said, "He's more angry than hurt."

"Good for him," Inez said, still pacing, and then mumbled something incoherent under her breath.

"At himself, not at her."

"Of course, he wouldn't be angry with her! Little Miss Shine Queen of Hazzard County can do no wrong."

"I didn't say that," Kate said, although, she smiled at the slur anyway.

Inez stopped pacing. "Then you agree with me."

"I didn't say that either."

"Well, what the hell are you saying, Doctor Broussard?...Sorry."

"He blames himself for everything. And he's not wrong."

"Now you're defending her? What about the 'bitch broke his heart'?"

Kate was as calm as Inez was agitated. "I'm not defending what she did. I just don't think it was as one-sided as we'd like to believe. You want to blame her. I wanted to hate her. We don't know what was going through her mind, or her heart. And neither one of us can even begin to know what has gone between them over the last thirty years. He's loved her since they were in the seventh grade."

"How could _he_ love someone who would do that to him?" Inez was exasperated.

"Exactly."

Kate waited.

"Oh," Inez said, as it finally sank in.

"Yeah, it took me a while to realize it too. He's not mad at Daisy for being who she is. He's angry almost to the point of bitterness at himself for doing the same thing he's been doing over and over and over again for thirty-two years. He set his own trap and then walked right into it. It's just, this time the trap had sharper teeth and it almost took his leg off."

"Sounds like the kind of metaphor he would use."

"Yeah, well, those are his words. And it's not like he hasn't known it for a while. It just took near amputation to make him admit it."

Inez sighed, not from relief but from frustration.

"Look, Inez. If you truly want to help him. Leave him alone to figure this out for himself. He didn't earn his way back into the LAPD by climbing _down_ hill. He's tough. But…you already know that."

"What doesn't kill us...?"

"Yeah. I'd say you're living proof." Kate smiled.

Before Inez left Kate's apartment, she felt lighter than when she came in, although, there was still the problem of what to tell E, or if she would say anything at all.

"You're pretty good at this, Kate. Ever thought about doing it professionally?" she asked at the door.

"Not at all. It's more exhausting than being a 'lady-of-the-evening' and the pay's not as good. And no, I'm never going back to doing that either."

_**Wednesday, June 11, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

The heat index was not yet in the triple digits, but L.A. was hot - and dry. Although El Nino was in full swing to the south, drought was still plaguing the Los Angeles area. Having been on the street in uniform for ten years, Enos braced for the hot days. Temperatures and tempers held somewhere just below flashpoint. Things could get bad enough for patrol officers, but he thought about his buddies at SWAT. He'd spent two summers with most of them, including the Simpson trial which ran all through the summer of '95. Worse than the reaction to heat on top of crowded spaces to gang members, the poverty-stricken, and those who felt forgotten, not to mention ordinary and normally law-abiding citizens, was how some LAPD officers reacted. In spite of training, and what he perceived as the need to be held to a higher standard, cops were men and women subject to the same petty prejudices and short fuses as anyone else. There was hate and frustration on both sides of the fence. He had come up close and personal with a few bad cops and could still taste the revulsion of it.

At least, he had started to cut down his after-work visits to Kate, having had, at last, been able to sleep through the night for the last couple of weeks. _Small victories_.

After the morning briefing, he sat at his desk to make some additional notes in the undernourished file of the Griffith Park victim. He hated referring to the child as if she were a nameless set of data, but her fingerprints had not turned up in AFIS, nor had her DNA turned up in CODIS. They'd had no luck with national missing person database searches either. This girl didn't seem to have existed beyond a cold compartment in the morgue. Memories of another mutilated young girl in a cold morgue drawer pricked at his memory and he forced them back into the place he had buried them, and her, long ago.

Calling this child Jane Doe was equally as cold. So, he had taken to thinking of her as Jane.

_ME report says Jane bled out before arm and foot removed. Asked if to hide identity – ME said arm likely site of blood loss – blood pooling other factors lead to the severing of the brachial artery - so not to hide identity? Or both?_

_Foot: Tattooing? Cultural marking? Scars?_

_Jane – child - sexually active. Prostitution?_

He shook his head sadly. It was a well-worn story. An everyday occurrence, especially in large cities. But he knew in his heart nowhere was safe, not even Hazzard County. Being so close to Atlanta, it was all too vulnerable to encroachment from the 'outside' world. Atlanta, when he had lived there in his Academy days, was a hotbed of prostitution, drugs and trafficked human beings. And it only got worse as the years went by. Boss Hogg may have been a conniving old skinflint, but while he was alive, he was the only riffraff...he kept out all the competition. He hoped Sheriff Rosco was doing the same.

Kate had, for the past few years, worked with agencies to find and rescue exploited children and he had told her about Jane. She agreed with him the girl was most likely foreign-born and had been trafficked here. In the absence of any information otherwise, she fit the profile they had both come to recognize. He added:

_Trafficked from overseas? Turn over to HTU?_

_Still can't figure out why she was found in such a public place. Why not the Mojave or somewhere in the Baja – or the ocean?_

With his report submitted to Inez, he moved on to the three new cases she had handed him during the morning file assignments.

Other than strictly professional courtesy and the performance of his duties, he had avoided Inez most of yesterday and had planned to avoid her again today. However, before he had finished reviewing the follow-up requests, Inez put down the phone and called him from her desk.

"E, we're up - armed robbery, ten minutes ago, shots fired. You're with me today."

Enos put on his jacket and straightened his tie, took his radio out of the top drawer, and followed her out to the car without any acknowledgment or comment. Except for the police radio giving updated situation status, they drove the entire distance to the incident site in total silence.

After two hours of gathering initial information about the robbers, they finally left the scene to forensics to finish their work. Enos got behind the wheel and headed the car back to the office. They hadn't driven seven blocks when Inez turned to him.

"Are we going to talk about it?" she asked, in her no-nonsense voice.

"Talk about what?"

"Why you've been giving your senior officer the cold shoulder for a day and a half?"

She hadn't missed the cues. Enos tried, unsuccessfully, not to smile.

"You snake. How long were you going to let me squirm?"

"Not much longer."

"Did Kate tell you?"

"No. She wouldn't do that."

"No, guess she wouldn’t...Then how did you know? I know you didn't see me tailing you."

"I might be as good a detective as you are." He popped his eyebrows up to accentuate his signature wide-eyed innocent look.

"Not possible."

She could see from his profile when his face turned serious.

"Why _were_ you following me?" he asked.

"You were being clandestine – not like you. Not even this…new you."

"Whew-wee. Clandestine...I _have_ come up in the world."

"Shut up."

"I'm sorry if I made you worry," he said. "I can tell you been sittin' on somethin' like you're hatchin' an egg, Inez, just tell me what's on your mind. I think we been through enough together, you and me. Professional distance be danged. You've earned the right."

"Thanks for that, at least," she said. The words nearly stuck in her throat. "Okay. Why didn't you tell any of us what you were planning? Turk didn't know. I didn't know. We thought you were just going back there for a visit. When you called from Hazzard and said you were getting married on Saturday, I was shocked and then you came home without…" Inez was afraid to say any more.

"It took me years to get up the courage to ask Daisy to marry me. I guess I was afraid to jinx it."

"Or, maybe you thought she'd say no?"

"Maybe. Probably."

"But you asked anyway."

"I had to try. Couldn't live any longer without tryin'." ‘ _For real_ ,’ he thought, ‘ _not because she was trying to keep me out of trouble.’_

"What were you thinking would happen if she said yes? She would move back here with you? Or were you planning to just give up _everything_ you've worked for and move back there - again?" She didn't try to disguise the reproach in her voice.

"I didn't think too far ahead. And when she said yes, I…I was so… My brain wasn't the one makin' those decisions. Daisy's always had that effect on me, ever since we were kids. It's not her fault she wasn't ready. I couldn't help myself…maybe I still can't."

The last bit was not what Inez wanted to hear _and if the woman wasn't ready, she should have said so before she got his hopes up; the unforgivable part, a_ s far as Inez was concerned.

After a long silence and before they reached the office, Inez asked, "So, you and me... we good?"

"Yeah, we're good." Eyes still on the road, he reached over and brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers.

Inez was instantaneously transported back to a time he had touched her once before with the same tenderness. It was a moment when she had wanted to know what it would be like to be lost in him….

She was married but separated at the time. HR would have had their asses on a plate and she'd no longer be his TO – not an option. At the time, she chalked it up to transference, or trauma, and buried the thought so deep it had not resurfaced until now. This time, she was no longer married. HR would still have their asses on a plate, but that wasn't what concerned her.

She was thinking they had better stop riding together before she did something they would both regret.


	3. Part 1 - Chapter 3

**Part One - Chapter Three:**

_**Saturday, June 14, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

With his ever-increasing workload, Enos worked Saturday mornings to catch up with file documentation. Even busy work ran out eventually. After he left the office that Saturday afternoon in June, he went back to his apartment, grabbed his sweats, and headed for the community center. It was good to have something to do and the activity at the center gave him another distraction.

Since this was his first time back for a few weeks, he wanted to arrive early and reacquaint himself with the equipment room, check-in with the administrative staff and generally get his bearings. He was heading to the gym, unusually quiet for Saturday morning when he was stopped short at the door of the music room.

Alone in the room was a slim woman, about five foot nine. Her long, dark brown, almost black hair cascaded down to the small of her back. She seemed familiar and he wondered if it was because she reminded him of Crystal Gayle. Then he realized who she was. He couldn't remember her name. It was something, something 'soon', from the charity thing Inez had dragged him to in March.

He could see only her profile as she began to move the bow over the strings, summoning from the violin a sweet sound. It turned melancholy. And then, became filled with loneliness and sorrow.

Though instinct told him he should walk away, he couldn't. The music held him spellbound, glued to the spot as she played, and he was beset by uninvited thoughts usually kept at bay when he wasn't on the job.

A mama crying for her lost child. Homeless camps. Indifference. Hopeless people, abandoned children, battered wives, and shattered lives.

And cemetery angels weeping over graves.

Before he could gain control over them, images flooded his consciousness: of helpless victims for whom he could only help get justice after the fact; death notifications, the worst of every cop's job; and grieving families. The visions transitioned to gruesome discoveries, senseless loss, and murdered girls with no names.

His chest tightened around his heart. He had to swallow hard as she played the last note. It seemed to hang in the air like an unanswerable question.

Why?

Tears were already dripping off his chin when he found the strength and unglued his feet from the floor, hurried down the hall, and disappeared back into the empty equipment room.

~~~~~*~~~~~

After managing to recover and eat up about an hour and a half of the afternoon, he gathered up the equipment inventory and meandered toward the administration office wondering how he was going to fill up the rest of the day. There was no reason to go back to his one-bedroom apartment. The only thing waiting for him there was a microwave dinner and a bitter cup of loneliness; and he was done with stewing in the self-pity pot. He'd been there before. It was counterproductive and didn't relieve the pain...or the guilt.

On his way, he passed the music room again and noticed the flier next to the door, not sure how he had missed it before, then sighed because it was probably just another sign he was not functioning on all cylinders lately.

Her name was Mun Kyung-soon and she was giving a summer beginner class for violin. ' _Why couldn't I remember such a pretty name?'_ he thought _._

The instruments in the hands of the kids, however, sounded like a cat got stuck in a drain. Leaning on the door jam, he listened for a few excruciating minutes, trying his best not to let his face show the assault to his ears.

Ms. Mun noticed him and flashed a quick smile of recognition. Her hair was now pulled back into a high ponytail; it swished and swayed as she moved. Before returning to her group of seven boys and girls, she held up five fingers to him, then dismissed the kids with some instructions for which Enos Strate, a transplant from Bluegrass and Country Western territory, had no frame of reference. He believed himself to be woefully under-educated in the classics and much more familiar with music played at the Boar's Nest and the Bloody Bucket where they called the violin a fiddle.

A few minutes later, the kids packed up the lent violins, put them on the table next to the door, and filed out past him, most of them greeting Enos by name. One little boy, about eight, fist-bumped him as he passed.

Enos called after him, "Hey, Marcus, how's your mama doin'?"

"Just fine, Sir. She got a new job." The boy said, walking backward.

He gave the boy a thumbs up. "Tell her I said hey."

"Yes, Sir, I will," he said and turned around just in time to keep from running into the closing door.

Enos walked into the room and said, "Hello, Miss Mun."

"Detective Strate, correct?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm not on duty, so you can call me Enos."

"I suppose you know all of the children _and_ their families?"

"Most of them, unless they just moved here. When I was in uniform, this was my patrol area. I haven't seen some of them for a while."

He started to tell her it was because he was with SWAT for nearly eighteen months after that, but it sounded boastful - or intimidating. Although unintentional, it sometimes had the latter effect. He found himself wanting to convey neither to this woman.

"I'm glad you decided to come work with the kids, ma'am."

"How could I not after the sales pitch you gave me at the gala? And my friends and co-workers call me Kay, by the way – they find it easier than Kyung-soon."

Her accent, like her name, was almost lyrical, like the sounds she had drawn from her violin. He couldn't remember what she had played that night, only how her music had made him feel.

"Yes, ma…Miss Kay."

She wanted to ask him to drop the 'Miss' then decided she should just settle for not being called ma'am.

"I took your suggestion and called the director," she continued, "She said they wanted to add another summer music program. I started last week."

"I'm sure the kids are glad you're here. Was that…Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star?"

Her laugh was light and effortless, and she said something in Korean. He didn't need a translation to understand she was probably saying something akin to, "Bless their hearts."

"After a fashion," she said, returning to English. "They will catch on soon and it will sound more like twinkling and less like nails across a blackboard." Enos winced. "They seem to be having fun."

At the time, he had no idea why he boldly, albeit awkwardly, asked the next question.

"Would you like to get a cup of coffee?" he said. "There's a regular coffee place on the next block. Regular meaning not one of those places that calls the guy who makes coffee that would wake up a bear in the wintertime a 'barista'…"

"Regular coffee will do nicely," she said, putting him out of his awkward misery. For a police officer, a detective no less, he seemed awfully shy and she wondered if she had sounded too eager.

The waitress who brought their order of two cups of coffee wasn't the one who took it. She had been a bored-looking teenager with torn jeans and a tank top that barely covered her midriff.

This waitress looked like _Alice_. Her nametag said 'Isabelle.' She took a large bowl full of half and half containers and two ubiquitous white coffee mugs off the tray and put them on the table, placing the cream in front of Enos.

After pouring Enos's cup two thirds full, she asked Kyung-soon, "How do you like yours?"

"Black please," Kyung-soon answered.

Isabelle filled the cup almost full.

Kyung-soon decided not to ask the obvious question ' _come here often, do you?'_ The way Isabelle surveyed her was enough for someone with only mediocre perception skills to see he came in often, and likely alone.

Isabelle focused her attention on Enos. "Haven't seen you in a while, Hun, you doing okay?"

"I've been a little busy, Iz."

"Guess so, new job an all," Isabelle said.

"Iz, this is…," he said.

Kyung-soon jumped in, "Kay."

"Got a real name, Hun?" Isabelle asked.

"Ah, yes. Kyung-soon."

"That's pretty."

"Thank you."

"You work at the center with Enos?"

"I am giving violin lessons for the summer."

"Violin. Hmmm, classical stuff?"

"Well, Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star _is_ a classic."

Isabelle hadn't taken her eyes off Kyung-soon since this weird exchange began and it was obviously making the detective uncomfortable. Though only slight, he was definitely blushing.

Isabelle turned to Enos. "I like her, she's funny."

When the other table called Iz for the second time, she rolled her eyes and said, "Nice to meet you, Kay, but _I_ have to go give a lesson on manners."

When Isabelle left the table things got awkward again, almost to the point Kyung-soon wished she would come back. She watched the man across from her, so energetic and engaged at the gala, and wondered why he seemed so different.

The Ides of March Gala had been a fundraising event for Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders). The accounting firm for which she worked, home-based in South Korea and owned by her uncle, was one of the sponsors. She had donated her solo performances for two previous years. Events like the Gala, although worthy causes, were usually very dry affairs from which she escaped as soon as she could. However, that night she had met the most intriguing man. He had been persuasive enough to make her want to see more of him. If it meant teaching a summer class at a community center, she jumped at the chance and called the director the next day.

Enos interrupted her reverie.

"The song you were playing, before the kids got there. It was so…" He searched for the words.

She hadn't been aware of anyone watching her.

"Gut-wrenchingly tragic, yet hauntingly beautiful?"

"It was the saddest thing I've ever heard," he said quietly.

"It's the theme from Schindler's List."

"Oh. That makes sense."

Knowing what the movie was about had put him off adding it to his 'must-see' list. He dealt with enough on-the-job. He needed to wallow in pain, sorrow and grief off-the-job like he needed a hole in the head. The first rule of being a cop in L.A., don't take your work home with you. The first rule of being Enos Strate, focus on the positive.

Kyung-soon watched the man become introspective again. Perhaps he wasn't as interested in her as she was in him – or maybe he was married. He was with another detective at the gala and they didn't seem to be a couple. She looked at the fourth finger of his left hand and thought, _no wedding ring and no tan line – some men do not wear wedding bands._ She had lived in the United States long enough to have been hit on by all kinds of cheaters. This guy did not seem to fit the profile. So, she was left with only 'disinterested.'

Their conversation continued politely then quickly decayed into nothing of consequence. They left the coffeehouse and parted company at their respective vehicles.

_**Saturday, July 12, 1997 – Hazzard, Georgia** _

Home from Duke University for the weekend, Daisy was sitting on the swing in the yard, with a lackadaisical appreciation of the mid-morning warmth when Uncle Jesse approached her carrying two fishing poles, a bucket of worms and a picnic basket.

"Honey, how'd you like to help me catch dinner?"

"I'd love to Uncle Jesse. I can't remember how long it's been since you and me went fishin'"

"Well, then, it's high time we did."

At the stream, they had already eaten the lunch Uncle Jesse had packed. Between them, they had pulled in a couple of walleyes and a bluegill. Jesse had watched with concern Daisy's initial lightness about going fishing fade into introspective gazing at the dragonflies.

"What d'ya say we try for one more."

"Sure, Uncle Jesse." She baited her hook and threw her line absent-mindedly into the middle of the stream.

"You got somethin' on your mind, Daisy?"

"Why do you say that?"

"You been awful quiet since you got to the farm an' even more since we been out here."

Daisy wasn't sure where to start and sighed out a breath. "Do you remember when Enos left on the bus for the academy in Atlanta?"

Uncle Jesse was afraid of where this was going, and he asked, "I think he was about sixteen or seventeen?"

"We were sixteen."

"Daisy, I don't think you were there when we put him on that bus."

"I wasn't. We said goodbye here."

Now Jesse closed his eyes and wondered if fishin' was such a good idea.

"I asked him to meet me down here because I didn't want to say goodbye to him in front of all of ya'll and everybody downtown."

"I never knew that."

"Nobody knew." She faltered for a moment. "We were in love, even though neither one of us said it."

"Daisy, you were children." Jesse had suspected their friendship had grown into something more. He thought of Enos as kin. Not blood kin…family. Their closeness had unsettled him at the time.

"I was, that's for sure. It was still the most real and true thing I've had in my life before or since. I didn't want him to go and I held onto him as tight as I could. I couldn't keep him here, with me. He had dragons to slay..." She finally sniffled softly. "Then, he was gone. I think I've been punishing him for it ever since."

_**Saturday, July 12, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

Kyung-soon showed Marcus how to hold the bow correctly for the umpteenth time and when he finally got the hang of it, she remembered how rewarding it was the first time she got it right. If nothing else, the boy was tenacious. Though she had initially volunteered for what might be considered the wrong reason, it was worth it. She enjoyed working with the youngsters and the experience had awakened in her a renewed passion in her own playing. However, she had decided not to play anything as heavy as Schindler's List again.

Perhaps it was what had turned Detective Strate off. They had not reconnected in several weeks. It seemed they were usually passing each other, going in different directions. Her class time had changed to Saturday mornings, so she had not seen him in almost a month – his time at the ballfield was usually late in the afternoon.

When she came out of the music room with her purse and keys and saw him standing there, ball cap in hand, she was nonplussed.

"Hello," was all that came out. Recovering, she added, "You are here earlier than usual."

"I didn't have as much paperwork at the office to finish today."

She didn't think it possible; he seemed humbler today than the last time they spoke and it did not seem to suit him.

"I see."

Enos pondered and played with his cap some more. "Ma'am, did I do somethin' to offend you?"

Stunned, she said, "No."

"If I did, I'm real sorry. I…I haven't been myself lately. At least, I might notta' been myself that afternoon. I'd be awful ashamed if I did or said somethin'…"

"You did nothing to offend me."

"I just thought since you switched your classes to mornins…"

Enos had seen her a couple of times when he was getting out of his truck and she was getting into her car. He had waved and she had waved back. It was only fleeting. He had been pulling double shifts for the last couple of weeks, so his off-duty time at the center had to be sandwiched in between on-duty time.

"You thought I was avoiding you?" _Funny_ , she thought, _I was thinking you were avoiding me_.

"Yes, ma'am."

And they were back to 'ma'am.'

"I was not avoiding you. I suppose I was disappointed," she said. "At the gala, you seemed so different and when we were at the coffee shop...I thought perhaps you were married or something and having trouble at home...or you were not interested."

Enos didn't know what to make of it and the confusion showed on his face. He hurried to correct her, "I'm not."

"You are not…interested?"

"No, ma'am. Yes, ma'am. I mean…" He closed his eyes for a second. "I'm not married."

Kyung-soon would have been hard-pressed to remember seeing anyone as flustered.

"Then perhaps you could return to calling me Kay?"

"Well, Miss Kay," he said, obviously relieved. "I'm glad I didn't cause any offense. I guess I best let you go."

 _There he goes with the Miss again_ , she thought. _Maybe if I call him Mr. Enos, he might get the hint._

As he looked like he was turning to leave, she said instead, "Perhaps we can try again...the coffee I mean. Unless you have somewhere you need to be for the next hour." She stopped short of telling him she knew exactly the amount of time he had available before the ball game.

"No. Yes, I'd be pleased to have coffee with you."

"Okay." She pointed over her shoulder with a smile. "I will finish closing up."

At the door of the coffee shop, Enos asked, "Have you had lunch yet? Du Par's is just around the corner and they're famous for their patty melt. Unless you're a vegetarian. I think they have a menu for that too."

"I am not a vegetarian. A patty melt sounds good as long as they serve it on rye. There is a foodie place close to work that uses ciabatta bread. It is not the same."

"I know."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Kyung-soon ordered her patty melt with an extra pickle and lemon water and Enos ordered his with sauerkraut and buttermilk.

"You like sauerkraut." It wasn't a question.

"I do."

"Have you ever tried kimchi?"

"I know what it is. Just never tried it."

At least he left off the ma'am, although he looked like he wanted to say it.

"So, you're an accountant," he asked after taking a large swig from his mug.

"Auditor, actually."

"Investigator. Same as me." He smiled.

"Not exactly. I only deal with the numbers, not the people. I stay in my cubicle while someone else collects the data, so I am relatively anonymous. And, as a rule, numbers do not carry guns."

"You'd be surprised. We collared this ole boy once who was tattooed with numbers, all over his body."

She laughed with the same light smile in her eyes.

The conversation, much more relaxed than the last aborted attempt, continued through the meal. Enos was finishing his buttermilk when he noticed a pained expression Kyung-soon's face.

"How can you drink that?" she asked, her brow wrinkling.

"I was raised on it. A cold glass of buttermilk is second only to moonshine back where I come from?"

~~~~~*~~~~~

When they returned to the center parking lot, Enos walked Kyung-soon to her car. He put on his serious face again. "I'm sorry about last time."

"You said you have not been yourself lately. What did you mean?"

"It's hard to say."

"Forgive me. It was presumptuous."

"No, ma'am. It's just...I'm still trying to figure some things out and sometimes I get...my supervisor calls it moody."

Instead of pursuing that line of thought any further, she said, "I thought we might be past the ma'am stage. Could you please call me Kay?"

"I'll try."

_**Tuesday, July 15, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

When Enos arrived at work at 5:45 a.m., he found Inez De Pina already at her desk working on the assignment schedule. He laid his notebook on his desk and walked over to hers.

"You're here early. Something up?"

"Nothing out of the routine," she said, "and, I could ask you the same question. Double shifts aren't enough of a challenge?"

"I come in early most days."

"You know, you don't have to work so hard to prove yourself, E. You've paid your dues and earned your place here."

"Thanks, Inez, but I don't have anything else to keep me at home. I'd rather be working."

"I hear you. Aaron spends so little time at home, I already feel like an empty nester and he won't be leaving for Boston until the middle of August."

Enos looked at the photo of Inez's eighteen-year-old son on her desk, who he had known since the boy was eleven.

He started to walk to his desk when she called him back.

"Just so you're not blind-sided in the morning briefing, I'm assigning you a partner."

He did not see that coming this early in the morning.

"The only reason," Inez continued, "I kept you on probationary status for an additional couple of months was your self-confidence level. I thought you were ready a month ago. You had to know it."

There had been no question in Enos's mind why he was still on probationary status and he agreed with her decision. "Ah, the head doctor eval…I must have passed, huh? So who's the unlucky detective who gets saddled with me?"

Inez smiled in spite of herself. She was trying to keep it professional, but he could crack her up without trying.

"That'll have to wait until the briefing, and you have paperwork to finish. You'll need to hand off some of those lower-level, information chasing files to the newbie…" Inez was searching for a name.

"Angela Kim?"

"She's the one."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Enos's first order of business was filing the final report on the uniform thefts, after which he read the updated observations from the medical examiner's office about 'Jane.'

_Subject: Jane Doe, age fourteen to fifteen, Caucasian_

_Date of Death: May 16, 1997_

_COD: exsanguination due to unconfirmed exit point, dismemberment of left arm and right foot_

_Serology report attached suggests victim born in the Ukraine or Belarus due to levels of Iodine-131 in thyroid (result of Chernobyl radiation leak April 1986? Victim would have been between three and four and likely ingested contamination in milk.)_

With regret he would not be able to pursue the case through to conclusion, he packaged up the file and messengered the hardcopy to the detectives who handled human trafficking cases, then sent an email alerting them to the hand-off.

The rest of his shift was spent rolling on a crime scene with his newly assigned partner, Detective Gordon Thompson, who _was_ blind-sided in the morning briefing by the news.

Thompson was a thirty-one-year-old hotshot who had risen meteorically through his duty requirements before becoming a detective two years earlier. His goal, as everyone in the unit was acutely aware, was set on Captain before forty-five. His new partner's age. What plans he had beyond making captain’ rank were a topic of conjecture.

He dressed the part of the upwardly mobile, ready to take the fast-approaching twenty-first century by storm. Why Inez had partnered them neither Enos nor Thompson, which is what he preferred to be called, could fathom.

Although Enos trusted Inez, Thompson did not, and he made no pretense about it.

~~~~~*~~~~~

After one day with his new partner, the primary item on Thompson's agenda was to protest the pairing to the senior detective, Inez De Pina. He argued budget concerns, his opinion that he works fastest who works alone, and the lack of enough resources available to support partners.

Knowing De Pina and Strate were tight, although it boggled his mind why he did not mention he thought the man was out of his depth in a unit that handles high-level investigations.

He asked if assigning him Strate as a partner was some sort of punishment and demanded to know what he had done to deserve it.

"The decision was not mine," Inez had said, her lack of sympathy dripping from every word. "You'll have to take that up with Captain Mallory. He requested the assignment." She put the file in her hands down on her desk. "And frankly, Detective Thompson, I was against it. Since my arguments were over-ruled, I acceded to his authority and made the assignment. Now, is there anything else I can do for you, Detective?"

And that was that. Thompson didn't have the clout, yet, to go around De Pina and straight to Captain Mallory. He decided to bide his time and gather enough fuel for the fire he might have to light to be shed of what he considered an impediment to his image and to his rise up the department ladder.

To Thompson, Strate was an anachronism. His countrified _Columbo_ style might work out on the streets. It took a certain sophistication to be an LAPD detective – and in Thompson's opinion, Strate didn't have what it takes – he didn't care what kind of ribbons were pinned to the man's full dress uniform.

Enos had also been prepared to work alone. The number of detectives per capita was on the low side and it was not usual to be assigned a partner. Neither of them expected it, although Enos understood why the commander might think it necessary in his case. Rarely intimidated by a challenge, he was also appreciative of what others might perceive as shortcomings. Hence the working twice as hard to be considered half as good. He had overcome the preconceptions while in uniform. Now he was back to experiencing it again as a detective.

He just assumed it was because he needed more training from a more experienced detective who was not also a long-time friend. He and Inez had too much history together. Just being assigned to the same unit had brought up all kinds of intrusive inquiry from HR about their relationship, past, and present. It wasn't a secret. They were close. Her son called him Uncle E. He had taken Aaron to baseball games, gone to his bar mitzvah, picked him up from school when Inez couldn't. Having to answer questions about whether or not he and Inez had had, or were still having, an intimate relationship was hard for both of them. And they had survived it.

Being a detective without all the baggage was enough of a challenge on every level. He found preparing for and conducting witness and suspect interviews to be his favorite part of the job, and he was good at it. However, many days were spent doing nothing but paperwork and chasing down leads. A detective might visit crime scenes three or four times a week, stay a couple of hours and then return to the office, or start a door to door search, or spend two days arranging search warrants. He couldn't deny there were days when he longed for the constant activity and public contact of the street again to the point he wondered sometimes if he had not become an adrenaline junky.

When the SWAT commander had recruited him, he was at top form on the firing range and had finally finished his bachelor's degree in Criminal Justice. He'd had constant training which required both individual commitment and working as a team – not prima-donnas.

The injury to his right arm in the final moments of a stand-off with active shooters after a kidnapping nine months ago had taken the edge off his aim and control. The fluke once in a lifetime shot had evaded his body armor. Though the bullet had missed the brachial artery, it permanently damaged nerves just above his elbow. He could still fire his service weapon with better accuracy than most. Better than most was neither good enough for him nor SWAT. Although the injury hadn't been life-threatening, it had been career-changing.

He could have returned to regular uniform with the same rank. Turk, Inez, and his SWAT commander had talked him into taking the detective exam instead, and when he passed with a higher score than he had expected, he went into it knowing he would be starting over – again.

Seemed to be the thread of his life these days.


	4. Part 1 - Chapter 4

**Part One - Chapter Four:**

_**Saturday, July 19, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

It was Saturday evening and Kyung-soon had left the diner where she'd had a third...she did not know what to call it...dinner...with Enos Strate. The man was quickly becoming a riddle she needed to solve. Or rather, a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside a six-foot two-inch enigma which both fascinated and perplexed her.

She arrived at her apartment, located near her office in an upscale complex in Downtown Los Angeles, plopped herself down on the sofa, and started to think of herself as Soonie. He had told her the name Kay didn't fit her, that her given name was like something from a poem, and asked if he could call her Soonie. She had agreed – of course, she had agreed.

The apartment, subsidized by her firm and owned by her mother's brother-in-law, had amenities she could not have afforded on her base salary. However, her Uncle had insisted when he sponsored her initial visa and eventual permanent resident status.

Her uncle's insistence, not completely altruistic, was fortified by the fact that good auditors were not easy to come by; she was tri-lingual; she was family, therefore, would not simply jump ship for another company; and her lack of husband or children, which meant she was free, at any time, to travel.

Her acceptance, she justified by her unrepentant need to be free of traditional family ties which had both coerced her into a loveless, childless marriage when she was twenty-three and admonished her when, after her mother's death three years later, she filed for divorce.

Having already worked at the Seoul based firm for a year, she had petitioned her uncle for a position at his company's branch in San Francisco and left South Korea within two weeks of the final divorce decree. A year ago, she transferred to the Los Angeles branch.

All in all, she had been in the United States for nine years and had become a citizen ten months previous. She was part of a generation of South Koreans who were trending toward divergence from archaic traditions and restrictions on women. Only having returned to South Korea once since then, for her half-brother's marriage ceremony five years earlier, Kyung-soon had no plans to go back in the near, or far-flung, future.

Over a shared Reuben on rye, she had told Enos her last class at the center was the upcoming Saturday, and she would be traveling to New York on the following Monday for a month, possibly more, for work.

As a result, although he had stumbled over the words, she now had a date with the enigma to spend the day driving the Pacific Coast Highway.

_**Saturday, July 26, 1997 – Hazzard, Georgia** _

Uncle Jesse was sitting on the front porch shaving the brown spots off stalks of rhubarb when Daisy, home again from Duke, rode her Harley into the yard of the Duke farm.

Jumping off the bike she sprinted up the stairs to the porch and had her arms around Jesse's neck by the time he had put the red stalks aside and stood up.

"Uncle Jesse," she whispered.

"Good to see you too, sweet girl."

She hugged him tight again before letting him go. "You fixin' to make some rhubarb pie, Uncle Jesse?"

"I was thinkin' maybe you'd take over that job, Daisy. I got plenty of strawberries in the freezer and everybody loves your strawberry rhubarb pie."

"I would love to," she said.

It warmed Jesse's heart to see her smile with her eyes again.

"Well, you better make a few of them, 'cause your cousins'll be here later."

"Bo and Luke are comin' in? I thought Luke was still helping to wrap up a fire in Montana?"

"He was, but he said they're past the point where they need smokejumpers, so he's comin' home for a bit to wind down. Guess it got pretty bad there for a while."

"What about Bo? How's he getting to come home?"

"Said somethin' about gettin' tired of chasin' the pro circuit and thought he come home and decide what he wants to do. Says he's gonna' stay awhile."

"Uncle Jesse, that's wonderful, we'll all be together again."

After making the pies and putting them in the refrigerator to keep until she was ready to bake them, Daisy peaked into the parlor where Uncle Jesse had dozed off in his favorite armchair. Her face filled with concern about how tired he looked. She made a mental note to talk to the boys about staying for more than a while, or at least coming to visit on a more regular basis.

She turned and started upstairs as quietly as she could so she wouldn't wake Uncle Jesse. Leaving her saddlebag at the bottom of the stairs for unpacking later, she took only a small case up to her old bedroom.

Surveying the room nostalgically, she exhaled the air she had been keeping in. The room looked the same as she had left it two weeks ago. It seemed different today. Maybe it was the sunlight streaming through the lace curtains or maybe it was her mood was more willing to appreciate the sunlight today than it had been two weeks ago.

She wasn't, like Carmen said, crying in her soup anymore. She had slept fairly well since the end of May without having to curl up around the L.A. paper. Though she wasn't ignoring it anymore, she didn't need it for comfort either. It didn't point a finger at her every time she passed a newsstand and she had actually read one of two editions over the past weeks from cover to cover. She hadn’t been aware of how much went on in L.A. No wonder Enos loved it so much. And there were probably lots of dragons to slay there.

And there he was. The reason she had come home. He was in the chifforobe, at least a part of him. She had finally gotten up the wherewithal to open the heartache in the closet in her Durham apartment. From her bag, she drew out a small ring box and one baggie of brown and desiccated apple peel. The rest of what she had left of him was around her neck or lay within the chifforobe in a brown paper shopping bag which said L.A.P.D. on the side.

Four hundred and seventy-six letters, letters he had never mailed to her, written over ten or so years he had brought to her in a shopping bag in April. She hadn't been able to bring herself to read them, not a single one. Since then, she couldn't bring herself to open the doors to the cabinet, let alone read those letters. Now, she was ready. It was time. She owed him that. And she owed it to herself.

She put the ring box and the apple peel on the edge of the bed, reached into the chifforobe, and pulled out the shopping bag.

It was late in the afternoon before she came down to put the pies in the oven. She had almost forgotten them. In her hand she carried a letter she had just opened and she was reading it while she took four pies out of the fridge. She turned on the oven and set it to 400 degrees. While waiting for the oven to pre-heat, Daisy sat down at the kitchen table and continued reading Enos's letter.

He had neatly organized and bundled the letters by dates so it had been easy for her to find the first batch and read them in chronological order. While reading, she alternately smiled and laughed softly at this one.

"It's good to hear you laugh, Daisy. I was afraid it might be a long time before heard it again." Uncle Jesse had appeared from nowhere in the kitchen.

"It's one of Enos's letters, way back from when he took his LAPD academy training." She looked at the date on the letter again. "This one's from about a month before he graduated. He says, said, the torture is almost over so the next torture can begin."

She laughed again and got up from the table to pop the pies in the oven. As soon as the task was completed, she sat down and picked up the letter again.

"That don't sound very funny."

"Oh, Uncle Jesse, he means that when he graduates, graduated, he would be a probationary officer for a year. From the way he describes it, it's pretty intense. He gets, got, a training officer who apparently dogs your every move and keeps score."

"Kinda like those drill instructors in the military."

"He says some of them are pretty tough, but he's looking forward to getting back out on the street again." She read the next few lines and softened her voice to barely audible. _"I missed being out in the thick of things more than I ever realized when I was back in Hazzard."_

"How many letters did he bring you again?"

"Four hundred and seventy-six."

"You plannin' on readin' all of them?"

She looked at her Uncle Jesse with the kind of resolve which could have answered the question.

"If it takes me from now until doomsday."

Jesse looked like he was struggling with something.

"You okay, Uncle Jesse?"

"I was just wondering about what you said the last time you were here. About punishing Enos for leaving. I must have misunderstood what you were sayin' cause it don't sound like you at all."

"You didn't misunderstand me, Uncle Jesse. I was only thinking out loud when I said it. The more I've thought about it, the more sense it makes. You know what they say, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem?"

"I wish I could help you, darlin.' I surely do."

"It's okay Uncle Jesse. Just being here and being able to talk to you helps. So, if you have something to say, don't hold back. I think that's what got me and Enos in this tangled up mess in the first place."

Uncle Jesse had more to say until he was interrupted by the sound of a truck pulling up in front of the house and Bo and Luke's voices thanking Alvin Dobbins for the ride. Uncle Jesse pointed at the diamond ring dangling on the end of the long chain around Daisy's neck and said, "You might want to put that out of sight unless you wanna' answer a bunch of fool questions from your cousins."

Jesse already had a bad feeling about her wearing Enos's engagement ring around her neck and having to deal with Bo and Luke's badgering her with a barrage of questions about it would just make Daisy dig in her heels.

Daisy flashed him an appreciative smile and tucked the engagement ring inside her sundress and let it fall into her cleavage.

_**Sunday, July 27, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

Enos woke on Sunday morning looking forward to the day. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he felt like jumping out of bed and meeting the day head-on. It felt as good as those Saturdays when he was twelve, after a long week at school when he could grab his fishing pole and head down to the pond without a care in the world. Today, even the threat of wet weather, thanks to El Nino, couldn't dampen his mood.

After dressing in his jeans and a pullover shirt, the sleeves of which came down far enough to cover the scar on his upper right arm, he called Soonie at 6:00 a.m. sharp to check if she was ready to go, reminding her the PCH could get cold, especially the further north up the coast you go, despite the fact it was summer. He'd found that out the hard way once when he had to pick up a prisoner from San Luis Obispo.

He picked Soonie up at her apartment in his '92 silver F150. Unlike the heaps, always in constant need of Cooter's fine touch, he had only been able to afford on his meager Hazzard County Deputy's wages, he'd bought this mint condition Ford pickup at a police impound auction for cash in '95, complete with towing package and shiny metal locking toolbox in the bed behind the cab.

They headed toward Santa Monica and then north on CA-1, with the ocean on the left and scrub-covered mountains slipping under the roadway and dropping into the ocean on the right. In spite of the weather report, the clouds said no rain, at least within the vantage point of the next fifty miles or so. The weather could not have been more perfect, and they rode with the windows down all the way through to Ventura Beach.

The wind caught Soonie's hair and softly blew it around the cab of the truck, forcing her to pull it back with a scrunchy and tame it into a ponytail. Although he appreciated the logic, he missed the long, soft strands flying around the cab.

He and Soonie didn't talk much during the first part of the trip. The comfort level seemed to be enhanced by not saying anything at all. In fact, Enos had rarely been this comfortable with another soul, not even Daisy, or at least not for a long time. He preferred if only for today and for a few precious hours, to just enjoy how being with Soonie felt. Most of his discomfort over the last few times he had been in Soonie's company had come from the absurd feeling he was cheating on Daisy. So, he consciously pushed all thoughts of Daisy into the background, though he knew he wasn't ready to completely let go of her.

It was only 10:00 a.m. by the time they made it to Santa Barbara and the weather was still holding. Another two hours and they would be near San Luis Obispo in time for lunch. Since their previous meals together had been in restrictive, and public, surroundings, like the coffee shop and the diner, Soonie asked if they could get something at a food truck to take out onto the Avila Beach terraces.

When they arrived at Avila, and much to Soonie's disappointment, there were no food trucks. She loved all kinds of food truck fare from Tex-Mex to the Mediterranean. However, one of the small pubs did take-out specifically for eating on the beach, so Enos bought them two fish n' chip baskets, mineral water for him, and a cold beer for Soonie. When she discovered the pub staff hadn't included malt vinegar, she sent Enos back to get it. Not only did she insist that fish n' chips must be accompanied by a cold bottle of beer, but the dish also had to be consumed with a healthy sprinkling of malt vinegar.

Surrounded by shoes, socks, and sandals, they ate their pub food. Soonie had had the forethought to wear capris. Enos had to roll up his jeans to walk out onto the beach. The view was spectacular. The clouds moving in were wispy, angel hair clouds and looked as if someone had swished them into being.

"You do not drink at all?" she asked, pointing to the mineral water.

"It dulls the edge I like to keep…Besides, even though my Daddy was a moonshiner and a ridge-runner, he never drank the stuff himself."

She looked at him with an 'I would not have guessed' look on her pretty face, more animated than he'd seen it before.

Enos smiled back at her. "He didn’t want me to take up the habit either, so when I was about eleven, he gave me a small glass of 190 proof moonshine, that's about eighty to ninety percent alcohol by volume, and told me to drink it down in one gulp." He almost giggled at the memory. "I got so sick...I never wanted to touch alcohol of any kind again. Still don't to this day."

"He sounds like a wise man."

"He was... He was. Besides, my new partner is testin' me and I don't want to fail. I need to keep a sharp edge."

"I cannot believe you have ever failed at anything."

"I have. Several times." He didn't want to count his relationship, or lack thereof, with Daisy. "I failed the first time I tried to be part of the LAPD."

"I don't understand."

"...I came out to Los Angeles once before, in 1980. They put me in uniform because I'd already been to the Police Academy in Atlanta, and a Deputy Sheriff. Fortunately, they partnered me with another cop named Turk Adams."

"You have mentioned him before."

"He's not just one of my best friends. He's more like a brother. And...he was a better police officer than I was. Almost anybody would have been." He gave a wry, rueful laugh at himself. Other than Turk and Inez, not another living soul knew the truth of why he went back to Hazzard in '81 after only eight months in an LAPD uniform. Turk, because he was there. He knew what happened.

Inez knew because he had run out of things to talk about the night their patrol car was sideswiped, flipped twice and ended up sideways with Inez's door crushed against her. They came to rest cantilevered over a cliff with half the patrol car stuck precariously over a sheer, two-hundred-foot drop straight down off a winding, deserted road in the hills of North Los Angeles. While he only had broken ribs and a bruised spleen, she had sustained abdominal injuries. Fearing she was bleeding internally, he'd had to keep her warm, strapped in the seat, so she wouldn't sustain any additional trauma or go into shock, and alert, so she wouldn't go into a coma. He'd had to recall his emergency training more than once that night. Another of the plethora of enrichment and annex classes he took, not only to educate himself but to fill the gaps of loneliness of a country boy far from what he thought was home.

Nine hours he talked, trying to keep her alive, waiting for dawn's light so the rescue crew could move in safely, without sending the car over the edge. With Inez unable to speak much, they ate up some of the hours by working out a system so she could teach him to sign the alphabet. Her grandmother had been deaf and she had learned to sign at an early age. Inez was able to teach him some words using the alphabet, including George Carlin's seven dirty words. She said later she only did it to see him blush in the moonlight. He blushed at the memory. In the months following the accident, he took a course in American Sign Language.

"I keep putting my foot in my mouth. You do not have to talk about it. I can see you are uncomfortable."

"No. It's...I just...I haven't talked about it for a long time." He kicked at the sand a little and nudged it around. "It's kind of important to me that you know...someday. Just still hard, and I'd like you to get to know me a little better."

She had the feeling it was some important key to unlocking the enigma. However, she also feared pushing him to tell her might make him shut down.

"I do not need details, Enos. Tell me when you are ready."

He felt a slight quiver when she said his name and he couldn't remember if she had ever said his given name. Then, the quiver became a heart flutter when she reached over and wrapped her hand around his, entwining their fingers. He did not pull back. Instead, he tightened his fingers around hers. He hadn't known until that moment how much he had wanted to touch her.

They sat holding hands and looking out over the ocean for another twenty minutes or so. He couldn't remember feeling this content, not in years and years. The breeze picked up and sent their empty baskets flying and they scrambled to catch them. Once they had captured them and gathered up their footwear, it was time to start the five-hour trek back to Los Angeles, and reality.

Enos had wanted to make the trip home through the Los Padres National Forest. However, with the wildfire earlier in the month in the San Fernando Valley and El Nino not quite making it far enough north as yet, he didn't want to chance a drive through the forest with precious cargo aboard. So he played it safe and took the 101 back through Camarillo and Calabasas where he could drop down to Topanga State Park and ease back into the city from there. After ten years, he knew these roads like he knew all the backwater roads in Hazzard; every crevasse, every ravine, every precarious twist, and turn.

They arrived at Soonie's apartment a little after 7:00 p.m. When he stopped the truck in front of the building's entry door, they sat in awkward silence for what seemed to Enos a lifetime, and yet, he found himself preferring the silence to its ending. Like a moth drawn to the porch light.

Soonie was arguing with herself the pros and cons of inviting him up for coffee...or something. Frustrated he had not made a move of any kind, she pulled off the scrunchy, setting her hair free, and asked, "Would you like to come up for a while? You have not had anything to eat since lunch. I could make some kimchi salad."

Enos swallowed the dryness in his throat, more than once. He almost said yes. He _wanted_ to say yes, but he was still dealing with a lot of issues he had not been able to resolve about Daisy and how Soonie fit into his life. He didn't want to mess anything up. he felt like it was important not to mess anything up. It was only weeks later when he realized he had not accepted because he wasn't sure if he trusted himself being 'that' alone with her. He'd had plenty of lustful thoughts about Daisy, for Inez on rare occasions. Then there was this female revenue agent back in Hazzard...

What he was feeling now wasn't run of the mill lust he'd learned to tame long ago with homegrown self-discipline and a cold shower. This was more like hunger and thirst, and it discombobulated him.

"I don't think I'd better. You have a flight to catch in the mornin' and I have to be at work early...but can I call you while you're away?"

"I will look forward to it. I will call you first to give you the number at the company apartment."

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, fearing anything more forward would spook him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

_**Monday, July 28, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

"Good morning, E. You look chipper this morning? Good day at the gym yesterday?" Inez asked E as he walked into the break room. As usual, they were the first to arrive.

"I didn't go to the gym."

"But it was Sunday. You always go to the gym on Sunday. First, you go to church, then you go to the gym."

"I took a drive on the PCH instead."

"What possessed you to do that?"

"I had a date."

Inez, stunned into paralysis for a full three seconds, followed after him. "You had a what?"

"A date."

"A real date?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Not one of those things where the vice mayor gets you over to her house on the pretext of teaching her to cook, or some fresh-faced female police officer who goes all fangirl over you right in the middle of an arrest, or some slinky madam slash loan shark who pouts because you won't return her calls, or...?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' about." He gave her his incensed look.

She punched him in the shoulder. He knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Ouch, that's my shootin' arm."

" _I'll_ shoot you if you don't spill it."

He flashed his most genuine Enos Strate smile and said, "Her name is Kyung-soon." Proud of himself for the ability to pronounce it correctly, he still didn't trust himself to do her name justice on a continuous basis. He preferred Soonie, but he wasn't ready to share that with anyone else just yet.

Inez went silent. After a half a second the light bulb clicked on. "Wait, you don't mean...the violinist you charmed into…?"

Now he was grinning from ear to ear.

Inez, eyes wide, muttered quietly to herself, "Possum on a _gum_ bush."


	5. Part 1 - Chapter 5

**Part One - Chapter Five:**

_**Friday, August 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

After checking in with the fledgling detective division which had only recently referred to itself as Human Trafficking Unit about Jane's case file, Enos was frustrated more progress hadn't been made. The reason he handed the file off in the first place was because the HTU was supposed to have more specialized resources.

What he hadn't factored in, as Kate had so plainly spelled out to him, was the lack of public awareness, lack of funding, and lack of cooperation from victims, either by fear of reprisal or deportation, The general lack of organized coordination between agencies was another issue since international coordination depended on the caprice of the political climate on any given day of the week. This was particularly true for anything in the former U.S.S.R., the Ukraine, which was having its own internal problems, and Belarus.

Interpol, whose records were computerized in the 1980s and whose linked intelligence gathering was state of the art for identifying patterns, had been contacted. There had been no response. The file had been shelved to the level one status until some feedback was received.

Enos decided to call one of the senior investigators in the unit to which he had entrusted Jane's case. Lieutenant Rodriguez was close to retirement age and had been working sex crimes for twenty years. He knew the man's reputation.

"You know we don't have the funds or the resources," he said when Enos asked him about the HTU's progress.

"Lieutenant," Enos had asked on the phone, "I know I'm probably oversteppin' my bounds, but is there any possibility I can try to get some movement on her case?"

"Do you have the time?"

"I can make the time, Sir," Enos said.

"You worked many sex crimes, son?"

"Yes, Sir," Enos said, quietly.

The lieutenant took a moment before he responded. Enos knew the man was pulling his LAPD file.

"Yeah, I guess you have..."

In the seconds of silence, Enos heard only breathing and pen tapping on the other end.

"If you clear it with your unit commander, you're welcome to join the battle. I warn you. It's not one we win most of the time. Just know that once you get into this, it ain't neat, and it ain't ever pretty. Even hard-bitten detectives get burned out long before any other division. Sex crimes, especially those involving children, are not for weak stomachs."

"Yes, Sir, I know...I'm not lookin' to change divisions. Just want to see this case through."

"You say that now...If you clear it with your unit commander, we'll send you the file and any activity since you turned it over. And, I'll have all the responses for any inquires made to date routed to you."

"Thank you, Sir."

"I'm not sure thank you is appropriate, son. But, good luck to you anyway." Rodriguez pulled a spiral notebook from his pocket and added Det. E. Strate to his shortlist of potentials for recruitment.

~~~~~*~~~~~

With the lieutenant's blessing, Enos took the proposal to Thompson, who, of course, rejected the idea of taking over another division's file when their caseload was already heavy with unsolved cases. Enos had been prepared to do the work on his own time; he had only asked Thompson to satisfy office protocol.

The result of asking Thompson was now the man, fourteen years his junior, thought he was obsessive-compulsive as well as incompetent. It didn't matter, he held out little hope of winning his partner over; he couldn’t afford the time to try, and no longer cared one way or the other.

Captain Mallory granted his request with the understanding there was nothing in the budget for more overtime than required by his and Thompson's assigned cases. Therefore, it would be unpaid time, and it could not compromise his on-duty assignments. Enos had predicted and prepared for that outcome as well.

With Soonie out of town, he could cut downtime at the community center, skip church and work on Jane's case nights and weekends for the next few weeks. Thus, he broke the first rule of being a cop in L.A.

_**Saturday, August 2, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

The first week Soonie was in New York she had talked to Enos on the phone only three times. Once on the Monday she arrived, once on Wednesday and once on Saturday night – mostly just small talk about New York and what she was working on. It was enough to combat not only the loneliness he felt and his days spent being shunned into non-existence by his partner. Not until Saturday night was Soonie able to cajole him into telling her about Jane's case. Without relating the excruciating details of Jane's death, he managed to convey how much he needed to find out who she was, to give her a name.

"She must have parents or family who need to know what happened to their baby girl. Soonie, I've worked murder cases before, but this one...I gotta' hope she had someone who misses her."

"We have some Ukrainian clients...and I would like to help. I could see if they have any influence they could use to locate records or the scientific studies you said Doctor Flores would need to match the levels of contamination."

"Soonie, you never stop amazin' me."

"I hope not," she said and smiled, though he couldn't see her. "I will talk to Uncle and start my inquiries tomorrow."

"It's late there, I should let you get some rest," he said, reluctantly.

"Are you going to get some rest as well?"

"I'll have to. I have another 'horrendous' day with Detective Thompson tomorrow." Enos smiled to himself and hoped Sheriff Rosco wouldn't mind if he borrowed one of his favorite phrases.

_**Wednesday, August 6, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

What is the saying, no rest for the weary? It was how Enos felt. Having to be Thompson's stooge for the last three weeks was working on his last nerve and he had not made much progress in Jane's case in the last 6 days.

Today, for instance, he and Thompson were supposed to be following up on extortion complaints connected with auto repair shops, no one would own up to making any complaints. Nor would they admit there was any substance in the anonymous tips which had been run up the ladder and landed on Thompson's desk.

Thompson chalked it up as a waste of time and decided it should go in the unfounded claims pile. Enos disagreed, so he went by Deacon's Midnite Salvage on the way home.

"Sugar, where have you been the last two Sundays," was Deacon's greeting when his truck pulled up in the yard, which was strewn with assorted fenders, tires, body frames, and unidentifiable parts. "You missed some world-class barbeque last week."

"Sorry, Deacon, I've been pretty busy the last couple of Sundays. Looks like it's gonna' be that way for at least the next month."

"Well, you just make it when you can. Hey, that friend of yours, Kate? She showed up last Sunday to talk to the congregation."

"She's real passionate about the subject, Deacon. The kids rescued from dangerous situations need homes to stay in when they're located. There's not enough families in the foster system to take care of em' all."

"She made a good argument. I can't promise anything…we'll figure out something we can do."

"Thanks, Deacon. Meanwhile, we been hearin' about some threats bein' made against auto repair businesses and I wondered if you've heard anything."

"Sure I have, I called it in. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"I suspected. You mentioned somethin' a few weeks ago at church got me to thinkin' when me and my partner were canvassing the region today. Nobody's willin' to admit they've been extorted."

"They wouldn't. Too scared."

"Maybe you should be too. These guys are usually pretty well connected and they don't take prisoners."

"Sugar, you don't get to be my age in this business without some dude getting in your face and trying to make you do something you don't want to do. First time you give in, they got you."

"I hope you're right, Deacon. You might want to step up security some for a while, till we can get a handle on this."

"Plan to. You want names?"

"As long as I can't stop you from jumpin' outta' the fryin' pan into the fire, I guess you might better give me anything you have."

Now he had to worry about Deacon. Was there no end to it?

_**Thursday, August 7, 1997 – Hazzard County Sheriff's Department** _

Sheriff, and Boss, of Hazzard County, Rosco P. Coltrane was in his office late, awaiting a call. He had already covered J.D. Hogg's memorial portrait in preparation for the activity unbecoming a low-down scoundrel about to take place.

"Flash, you little velvet eared canine, it's just like bein' one o' those secret agents iddn't it." He crinkled up his eyes and snickered his signature cartoonish laugh.

Right in the middle of the second snicker, Daisy opened the door and walked in like she owned the place.

"How'd you get in here? That door's 'sposed to be locked." Rosco huffed indignantly, picking up Flash and walking in front of the desk.

"Well, Sheriff, you locked it and left the key in the outside," Daisy said, dangling the key in front of her. "I figured it was an invitation."

Truth is, Daisy knew a way into the office that didn't require a key. She wasn't going to share with Rosco.

"Well…you shouldn't be here – now give me that there key and get on outta here. I'll tell you what the dipstick had to say later, like always."

"Sure, Rosco, you can have the key. But I'm not leavin'."

"I thought you said you weren't ready to talk to Enos yet."

"I'm not. You're holdin' out on me and I want to know what and why. And I'm not leavin' until you tell me or I hear it for myself."

"What do you mean you think I'm holdin' out on you? We had a deal, Daisy, you promised you'd stop callin' me every week and I promised to report to you after I talked to him."

"I'm not going' back on our deal. Have I called you in the last month?"

"No, but you been comin' by the office so much since you been home people are beginnin' to talk. Specially you bein' here so late."

"Talk about what, Rosco?" Her determined mood notwithstanding, Daisy couldn't help being amused.

"Well, you never mind…are you gonna' leave or what?"

"I'm stayin'. You can arrest me if you want. I'm not leavin'. And when I do get around to calling Enos, I'm gonna' tell him you arrested me and he's gonna' want to know why. And I know you been holdin' out on him."

"You Dukes are all alike. Can't trust none o' ya'."

Daisy didn't respond, she just walked over to the chair beside his desk, crossed her arms and legs, and established her beachhead.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Earlier in the day, Daisy had sat at the kitchen table with Uncle Jesse while Bo and Luke were in Capital City looking at a car Bo and Cooter had their eye on. Cooter Davenport had just about talked Bo into leaving the Nascar chase and going into business with him restoring classic cars. Cooter had found him a salvage yard in Los Angeles who knew how to wheel and deal, was legit and had contacts all over the country.

"Uncle Jesse, what would you think if somebody told you he wrote you a letter a week, sometimes two, for the last ten years and when you started reading them you found five whole weeks missing?"

"I don't rightly know." Jesse had an opinion but kept it to himself. "How far have you got?"

"September 1988."

"Did you check the rest of the bundles? You said they was all bundled up so it was…"

"Yes, Sir, I checked. I put them all in date order. There are other weeks missin' too. Sometimes he made up for them the next week, sometimes not."

"And what do you make of it, Daisy?"

"You know as well as I do what I'm thinking. When Luke came back from Vietnam, there was lots of stuff he didn't want to talk about."

"I know, Daisy. But Enos didn't go to war."

"Didn't he? It took "ten years of gang wars, shoot-outs and a tour on SWAT" for him to get up the courage to ask me to marry him...I was so stunned he asked. I didn't remember his exact words until today."

"Does it matter what he didn't want you to know, Daisy?"

"It matters. I'm not sure why just yet, but it matters."

_**Thursday, August 7, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

The view from Enos's apartment may not have been the best in Los Angeles. It wasn't the worst either. The building was within walking distance of Chinatown, Dodger Stadium, and Echo Park. Chinatown was a tourist magnet, but he loved it because it had so much color and an interesting atmosphere. Plopped in the middle of Echo Park was one of the prettiest lakes in Los Angeles. Unfortunately, it was also a hotbed of gang activity. His neighbors were grateful to have a police officer living in their building, and, after nine-plus years working in the area and eight years of living in the same apartment, he knew most of the long-term shop owners.

Before he could put the key in his door, Mrs. Huang, his neighbor across the hall, peeked out of her door and called him over. The woman was eighty if she was a day and had the hearing of a bat.

"Yes, Ma'am?" Enos asked wearily. It was probably about her grandson, Daniel, again.

Mrs. Huang presented him with a small casserole dish. "I made too much again. Thought you might be able to use it." As this scenario had played itself out many times before, she added, "It will go to waste otherwise. You know Daniel hates Lasagna."

"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you. I'll be sure and get the dish back to you as soon as I can."

If he didn't take the casserole, Enos knew her feelings would be hurt. Besides, he liked her Lasagna. On the other hand, he also had a penchant for the Char Sui and the crisp green beans swimming in soy sauce in the bag dangling from his left hand, both getting colder by the second.

Mrs. Huang looked down at the bag, clearly marked with the restaurant's logo, shook her head and gave him a "Tisk. Tisk."

She had been on his case recently about eating Cantonese take-out. "Forget being injured on the job," she liked to say, "salty foods will be your downfall one day."

She had checked in on him every day for two weeks after he was shot. Then there would be the obligatory follow-up, "You need to get a wife." Everybody and his grandmother seemed to know what he needed. He was the only one who wasn't sure anymore.

It was 6:15 p.m. by the time he was able to excuse himself from his kindly, over-protective neighbor. It would be 9:15 in Hazzard, probably closer to 9:45 when he would be able to place the call. Too late to be calling. He had told the Sheriff earlier in the day he couldn't talk then and would call him later. Today was supposed to have been a half-day off, so the afternoon turned into evening and ‘later’ became ‘late.’

Although he hadn't thought about it for a while, volunteering for extra duty at overtime rates would get him closer to the thirteen or so acres in the valley he'd had his eye on. So he had taken it.

His third-floor apartment was not Spartan. Enos had to admit it was a bit lackluster, which hadn’t bothered him before. Lately, though, it seemed to be missing something. Or everything. Or someone. It was serviceable and he had not felt the need to add or change much since moving in eight years ago. The one-bedroom was, at least, a step up from the efficiency he had been living in during his days at the academy and for about six months afterward. He didn't sleep in the same room as the stove, sink, and refrigerator anymore. There was no washer and drier in the apartment, although, there was a communal laundry room on the first floor, also a step up from the efficiency.

The casserole went into the refrigerator for tomorrow's supper and the take-out went onto the counter. While he turned on the oven, as warming those particular food items in the microwave was not an option, he loosened and pulled off his tie, then unbuttoned his top two shirt buttons. He slid a CD into the player and decreased the volume slightly.

After he had eaten the barbequed pork and green beans, he steeled himself for the call to Rosco. The Sheriff was not going to sidestep his questions about Daisy for the third time.

_**Thursday, August 7, 1997 – Hazzard County Sheriff's Department** _

Daisy was still locked into a cross-armed and cross-legged position on the chair next to Rosco's desk and demanded, "Rosco, what is it you're not tellin' me?"

"Daisy, I don't have any idea what's missin' in those letters. I didn't know he wrote 'em till you told me just now."

"You mean you never communicated with him while he was in L.A.?"

Until the reunion, Enos hadn't been back to Hazzard in years. Except that once, in the spring of '88 that Rosco wasn’t supposed to talk about. It was before Daisy ran off and got married and he hadn’t been back since. At least, not until three months ago. Rosco had heard from Enos, not once a month like now, but regularly. Even Rosco didn't understand why he hadn't shared that fact with anyone in Hazzard, including J.D.

"Did you?" he asked her, defiantly.

Watching the flash of lightning bolts in Daisy's eyes, Rosco regretted those two words as soon as they left his mouth. Truth is, when her head wasn't buried in his chest next to his heart and she wasn't crying her eyes out, Daisy Duke scared the begeezus out of him. She'd gotten scarier since she graduated from college, so he was grateful to be saved by Cletus's voice on the radio.

Rosco grabbed the hand mike without looking at Daisy. "I thought I told you I was on oh-fficial business and wasn't to be disturbed."

Rosco and Daisy listened to Cletus rattle on about the gnats, the deer flies, and the mosquitoes as big as deer flies out at the quarry and how it was Thursday night and couldn't he come in early cause there weren't gonna be nobody tryin' to take a swim on a Thursday night...

"Don't you worry about what night it is, Cletus," Rosco said into the phone, "You just catch us some o' those out o' town hooligans comin' up here from Capital City and usin' the quarry ta' take midnight swims without payin' the customary fee." And Rosco switched off the radio.

"Rosco, that's about the lamest thing I've ever seen you do," Daisy said, finally letting go of the death grip she had on her arms.

"Just never you…" The phone interrupted Rosco before he could get his foot into his mouth again.

Before he could stop her, Daisy hit the speaker button.

Giving her his mock 'disgusted' face, he said into the phone, "Hazzard County Sheriff's office, Sheriff Ros-co P. Coltrane speaking."

Daisy shook her head and rolled her eyes.

_"Hey, Sheriff. How's it been goin'?"_

"Oh, fine, fine, Enos." Rosco wasn't sure what, or how much, to say with Daisy listening in.

" _Sorry it's so late. We got tangled up in a domestic dispute when we were on a routine follow up call this morning and it took half the afternoon to sort it out."_

Daisy and Rosco could hear music playing in the background on Enos's end.

"Well, you know, Enos, a Sheriff's work is never done either, so don't you worry about how late it is. Hey, you gone high-brow on us, dipstick?"

_"Huh?"_

"That music you got on the radio don't sound like stuff you used to listen to when you were mindin' the jail."

_"It's called contemporary classical and I don't do a lot of things I used to," Enos said without thinking._

Daisy noticed how un-Hazzard he sounded, oddly similar to when he first came up to her on the back porch of the farm in April...

"Well, that's a fact," Rosco said, slightly deflated.

_"Sorry, Sheriff. Got a lot on my plate right now. Sheriff, why do you have your phone on speaker?"_

Rosco fumbled and fidgeted and stumbled over his words, "What...how…?"

_"I been on enough conference calls the last few months to know the difference between the sound of..."_

"Like I said, a Sheriff's work is never done. I was multi-tasking."

_"Ahhh." Enos said. On the other end of the line, he had his eyebrows raised and was shaking his head. "You mind takin' it off, it's hard to catch everything with Flash breathin' in the background."_

Rosco glared at Daisy triumphantly, although he felt he would regret that later too. He picked up the receiver to cancel the speaker.

"Hey, I got some news that'll perk up those ears. Guess who got hisself arrested and hauled off to the Federal clink this week?"

_"Don't have a clue," Enos said, not noticing he had not slipped back into talking-to-Rosco speak._

"Ezra Bushmaster!" he tittered. Turns out he was all tangled up with...Mama Jo and her gang. They were as thick as fleas on a dog's back…no offense, Flash...Oh, by the way, you're probably gonna' get a subpoena from the Federal Prosecutor in Atlanta."

Enos had already been contacted by the Georgia State Police to let him know they had apprehended Slimy Ezra based on his tip and he had already received notice from the Federal Prosecutor. He would definitely have to give testimony either by phone or in-person in Mama Jo's trial.

_"Don't that beat all," Enos said, as innocently as he could manage. "But it'll likely not be for six months to a year. Takes 'em a while to put those kinds of cases together…Sheriff, that's not why I called. I been askin' you about Daisy the last two times I called, and you been side-steppin' me every time. I want to know if she's alright and I'm not in any mood for messin' around."_

_Once the initial hurt and anger was over, thanks to Kate letting him talk it all out, he started thinking about what Daisy must have been going through. He had wanted to fulfill his lifelong dream so much, he failed to consider what moving so fast would do to her. He knew she had been married and divorced. When she ran off and got married, it had hurt. None of it mattered to him, now. He had been so concentrated on getting what he wanted, he let her not only accept his proposal without time to think about it, he agreed to the quick wedding._

_They weren't teenagers. He had waited this long, why couldn't he have been satisfied with being engaged and waited a little longer; to let the idea settle in, let her be sure?_

_He had only himself to blame. He should have been the voice of reason and caution. He should have been satisfied with just knowing she wanted to marry him. He had seen the anguish on her face when he left that afternoon. Maybe it was her pain he couldn't face, not his own. Now, he didn't know how to make it right._

"Boy, you better straighten up and fly right…"

_"Rosco! I asked you a question. Just answer it or I'll stop callin' and find out some other way!"_

Daisy heard it without the speaker. Enos had never, in his whole life, talked to Rosco in such a forceful manner. Out of habit, he started to call Enos to account except he was so dumbfounded he just stared quizzically at Daisy, trying to decide how she was doing. She wasn't blubbering into his uniform anymore. Beyond that, he truly didn't know for sure.

"Well, about Daisy…she's doin' okay as far as I know. She's home visitin' for a while."

Daisy was making a throat-slitting gesture at him and he was ignoring it. If he was going to pay, he might as well go the whole Hogg. He snickered at the pun in his head.

"I don't see her much." Rosco reckoned he wasn't telling Enos a lie, wondering why he should be concerned – he used to lie to the dipstick all the time. He had not seen much of Daisy in the last three months, give or take a few days. She had only dogged him by phone. Rosco didn't, strictly speaking, do a lot of things he used to these days either.

Then he got bold. "You ever gonna talk to her again, Enos?"

_"Of course I'm gonna talk to her again," Enos's said, sadness dripping off the words._

"Well, then, it's good you plan to talk to her again. You think that's gonna be anytime soon?" Rosco was winging it and traveling way outside his comfort zone.

_"I just wanna' be sure I don't mess it up when I do. For now, though, I just need to know how she's doin'. She get her Ph.D. yet?"_

In one of those rare moments when Rosco showed his own layers, he said into the phone, "No, I think she's still workin' on the paper she has to hand in. I don't think she's dancin' no jigs, but she appears to be doin' okay. She even smiled at me today."

It wasn't a lie either, she was smiling at Rosco now.

Enos wasn't sure if Daisy smiling at Rosco was a good thing or a bad thing. She was never partial to Rosco and the only expression he had ever seen her give him was a glare unless she was shuckin' and jivin' the Sheriff to get Bo and/or Luke out of trouble. At least Rosco had given him an answer. The jury was out on whether or not it was a straight answer.

After Rosco said goodbye to Enos and hung up the phone, Daisy kissed him on the cheek and exited his office, leaving him stroking Flash's soft ears and cooing to the hound. She was glad, now, that Rosco had ignored her. She wasn't going to let him completely off the hook, but she was no longer contemplating running him down with her bike either.


	6. Part 1 - Chapter 6

**Part One - Chapter Six:**

_**Wednesday, August 13, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

By 3:00 p.m., Detectives Strate and Thompson were both standing on the other side of Captain Mallory's desk, neither penitent nor apologetic, refusing to divulge what had provoked one of them to assault the other. The Captain knew, of course. He just wanted to find out if one, or both, would tell him. The blinds were up and the captain didn't seem to care whether or not the scene was being played out to an audience.

Mallory tapped his pen rhythmically on the top of his desk in an attempt to temper the frustration at having to suspend at least one of the detectives in front of him. Further adding to his frustration and disappointment was which one it would likely have to be. It was lose/lose. The situation had gone beyond quiet, internally controlled conflict resolution. There was a witness. HR had gotten involved. Strate had reported on himself. Thompson had not reported the incident at all.

"You're still not going to tell me what precipitated this debacle? Either of you?" he asked, knowing the answer.

They both said in unison, "No, Sir."

~~~~~*~~~~~

The day had started out simply enough. About 10:00 a.m., after Enos had completed a witness interview and the room was clear, Inez stepped in and closed the door.

"E, you got a minute?" she asked.

"Yeah, what's up?"

She hesitated a second, studying her shoes. "I know we decided on keeping a professional distance, and we still should, especially away from the job...I didn't count on how it was going to affect Aaron." She crossed her arms and looked up at him. "He misses you."

"I miss spendin' time with him too," Enos said. "At least I got to see him graduate high school."

"He knew you were there, but it wasn't the same. He asked last night if we could suspend the ban on you coming over to the house, at least for one family dinner before he leaves."

"Just tell me when, Inez, I'll be there." He almost reached out for her then thought better of it.

"Thanks," she said, playing with her fingernail. "How about Friday night, about 7:00? I have to take him to the airport on Saturday morning."

"I'll be there with bells on."

When she left the interview room, she didn't notice Thompson.

~~~~~*~~~~~

At 12:46 p.m., Enos and Thompson walked into the third store on the list of five video and music retailers hit overnight. Breaking and entering, burglary and vandalism. Forensics was still on the scene of Starshine Video and Music when they arrived to talk to the manager. It was as if they had walked into the same store three times. The method of entry, the particular inventory stolen, and the level of vandalism was more than similar at all three locations.

Thompson doubted they would be finding anything different at the last two by the time they finished the day. On that, at least, Enos agreed and added, "Kind of stupid though. Why set yourself up with a signature MO?"

Enos wondered why these particular burglaries had not been given to the uniformed officers to follow up. The quantity of criminal stupidity in Los Angeles never ceased to bowl him over. It was likely Cletus Hogg could track these yahoos down. He supposed it had something to do with the new strain of flu making its way through the department over the last week and resolved to get his flu shot.

Enos hadn't said much to Thompson since the morning meeting. There was no missing the signals he was transmitting. It didn't take a psychology degree to understand Thompson's ego had been bruised. Enos almost felt sorry for him. Almost being the operative word.

While Thompson had been tied up for several days giving testimony in an Assault and Battery trial, yesterday's arrests of suspects in the extortion attempts on the auto repair shops, which Thompson had put on the lowest priority, had been by Enos and Morales. Waiting to move on the warrants until Thompson was available would have left Deacon and her crew to one more day of exposure as the source of the information. He presented the time-sensitive issue to Inez, Captain Mallory requested the warrants, the judge signed off on them and it was a done deal. Thompson had been left with egg on his face and a burr under his backside.

While Thompson asked the manager and clerk the same questions he had asked at the previous two locations, Enos took a look around, then went through the VHS tapes and CDs strewn around the back part of the store. Looked like the vandalism was staged to him, same as at the other two stores. He wasn't sure what it was yet, but these perps were sending a message.

He donned his vinyl gloves, pushed through a pile of VHS tapes with the top of his pen and made some notes. When a particular VHS tape caught his attention, he wasn’t reminded of the dark, depressing thoughts he'd had while Soonie had played the theme. He was reminded of how much he missed hearing her play and felt a now-familiar twinge of hunger and thirst again.

"The evil that men do..."

The voice had come from the jet-black haired, nose pierced, goth-girl with a nametag standing beside him. She had apparently approached while he was daydreaming.

"Beg pardon, ma'am?" Enos said, standing.

She pointed to the VHS tape.

"Oh. I've heard the music...haven’t seen the movie," he said.

"You should."

"Pretty heavy stuff. Not sure if I have enough tissues in my apartment."

"I get that." From her five-foot-three inch vantage point, she studied him, not in a way that made him feel uncomfortable, but in a way that made him feel like she knew a secret she wanted to share. "I've seen it twice. It's devastating. It's as much about the triumph over evil as it is the sadness of it all. You know – the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men stand by and do nothing...he wasn't a saint by any stretch of the imagination. Neither did he stand by and do nothing." She pointed down at the tape again. "However, I'm afraid you'll still need the tissues."

"I guess I should get around to watching it one day."

Before Enos could follow that line of thought any further, or ask her any questions, Thompson walked up and said, "We need to move on to the next store. You ready? There's nothing here we haven't seen before."

"Yeah, I'm not so sure," Enos mused, then took off his gloves and extended his hand to the goth-girl with a nametag. "Nice talkin' to you Miss," he looked at her nametag again, "Elektra."

"Same here, Detective."

~~~~~*~~~~~

When they got to the car, Thompson said, "You know, we'd get a lot more done if you didn't chat up the citizenry at every stop."

Enos was worn down to a nub. His normal control mechanisms had been compromised by lack of sleep, a child victim without a name, worry over how to mend fences with Daisy, guilt over not spending time with Aaron, trying to figure out his feelings for Soonie and way too much Thompson.

He leaned on the closed car door to prevent Thompson from opening it and shot back, "And you would learn more if you did."

"Look, Strate, let's stop dancing around it. We don't like each other. Neither of us has any idea why the captain threw us together and you don't seem to care. As far as I'm concerned, it's a punishment and I don't think you fit into the unit dynamics."

"And yet, here I am."

"I think it probably has more to do with whatever it is you and De Pina have going on the side than your suitability…"

Thompson didn't get the rest of it out before Enos slammed him against the side of the car with the backside of his right arm and applied pressure to his windpipe.

"Now, you listen to me, you wet-nosed son of a polecat. You can say anything you want about me and some of might even be true, but don't you _ever_ disrespect Detective De Pina again. She worked too hard to get where she is and she doesn't deserve that kind of talk from anybody, especially you. Do we understand each other?"

Thompson uttered a garbled, throaty, "Yes."

"If you have a problem with anyone in the unit, especially a superior officer, you take it up with them and say it to their face, not behind their back. And if I catch you doin' it again, there's gonna' be _hell_ to pay even if he gets me busted all the way back to fetchin' Sheriff Coltrane's corn dogs."

He let go of Thompson and turned to head around to the driver's side only to find an open-mouthed Elektra staring at them.

"Uh...one of you left your pen on the counter...looks expensive?"

"Thank you, ma'am. If it's expensive, it must be Detective Thompson's."

She handed Thompson the pen. "You okay?"

Thompson just nodded.

"Maybe you should get him some water if you don't mind, Miss Elektra," Enos said.

"Yeah," she said, still trying to process the scene.

Thompson held up his hand to indicate he didn't need anything, opened the door, and dropped into the passenger seat.

"Thank you, Miss Elektra. I might come back for that tape when I can make sure I'm not contaminatin' evidence. And, you'll likely be hearin' from someone in the department about this. I'd appreciate it if you would just tell them everything you saw."

"Are you sure? Looked kind of justifiable to me."

"Yes, ma'am. Department frowns on this kind of thing, justifiable or not."

Elektra looked skeptical. "Okay. If you want to fall on your sword, who am I to stop you?"

~~~~~*~~~~~

It was now 3:15 p.m. Both men were still standing in the same spot as they had been fifteen minutes earlier.

"And you're both prepared to account for your actions?" Captain Mallory asked, still shaking his head.

Enos answered first, with enthusiasm, "Yes, Sir."

Thompson followed with the same answer and less zeal.

Before passing sentence on either of them, Mallory shook his head in disgust at what he had to do, especially since he had to take some of the blame, maybe all of it, for what he should have anticipated as the natural result of throwing the two of them together. De Pina had warned him, and he made a mental note to take her counsel more seriously in the future.

"Alright, I'll talk to Strate first. Detective Thompson, you can get some work done at your desk, I'll call you when I'm ready for you. And close the blinds before you leave."

Thompson, complied, excused himself and left the Captain's office only to be met with feigned disinterest from his fellow detectives as he made his way towards his desk.

~~~~~*~~~~~

The captain indicated for Enos to sit, and once he was in the chair, Mallory exhaled with a groan. "You know what I have to do now, don't you?"

"I got a pretty good idea, Sir."

"One-week suspension, without pay?" Mallory sounded apologetic.

"Yes, Sir. It was worth every penny. And now I can work on the Griffith Park victim file full time, or at least for a week." Enos said, with a smile.

Mallory couldn't help but chuckle.

"Do you know why I put the two of you together?"

"I reckon it was because Detective Thompson has more experience and education…"

"Geez, Strate, that isn't even close!" Mallory said.

"Sir?"

"I thought you might be able to teach the kid some humility. He has so much potential and he's wasting half of it."

"Well, Sir, if that was your intention, he was pretty humble a couple of hours ago."

Mallory laughed. "Maybe, but at what cost to you? It seems all I did was set you up for failure and ended up having to punish you for it. And, for that, I am truly sorry."

"It's okay, Captain. Mighta' happened if we weren't tethered together. Can't figure what it is yet. Man's got a chip on his shoulder weighin' on him somethin' fierce…Besides, it's kind of a compliment."

"Glass half full, huh? Nobody needs that kind of compliment."

Enos just shrugged and smiled. He was almost ashamed of how relieved he was to be shed of Thompson.

"I guess we're finished here. You can go."

"Thank you, Sir," Enos said, as he rose and headed for the door. Before opening it, he turned back to Mallory. "Captain, since this is goin' on my permanent record anyway, you think you could make that a two-week suspension? I could get a lot more done on the Griff…."

"Get out of here before I change my mind and give you zero suspension…and tell Thompson I'm ready to see him now.

"Yes, Sir."


	7. Part 1 - Chapter 7

**Part One - Chapter Seven:**

_**Friday, August 15, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

If anyone had asked Enos Strate ten years ago where home was, without hesitation, he would have answered Hazzard.

What seemed a certainty then was not as clear now. Tonight, he was sitting at the kitchen counter in Inez's house. How familiar it had become, like a second home. Neither of them should have allowed it. Neither of them could resist it either. There are all kinds of families, and he'd been so long a part of this one. He felt comfortable there, normal.

He was at home talking to Aaron about his scholarship, his travel plans, and his dorm. Enos had taken six years to earn his degree. Aaron would do it in four and then would be headhunted by technology firms. Enos could not have been prouder of him if he were his own kid. The boy had grown into a man, seemingly overnight. No matter how old Aaron got, Enos would forever see the scared little boy, barely eleven, trying to keep a brave face while his mother was fighting for her life.

Aaron had no one to turn to back then. His father couldn't be there. He and Inez had separated, and David was already living and working in West Virginia. Inez had filed for divorce. David was only able to make it back to L.A. to be with his son a couple of weekends since the separation. Enos had had to hold his tongue about it. Riding in a car with someone going through a break-up had taught him when to keep his opinions to himself, no matter how crappy he thought the situation was.

While Inez was in the hospital, Enos made sure Aaron had as close to normal life as possible during the ordeal, someone he could count on; so he wasn't forced into the care of strangers, or well-meaning relatives he hardly knew or shuttled back and forth between kindly neighbors.

Enos had walked in Aaron's shoes.

Ribs wrapped and still on a mobile IV, Enos had been sitting with Aaron for some time in the ICU waiting room when one of her cousins came to the hospital to collect him. He and Aaron had met a few times over the previous eight months and Inez has talked a lot about him.

When Aaron began to rebel against being taken away from his mother, Enos had to convince the woman he would watch over him, be responsible for him - he was going to be there anyway. He didn't remember much of the conversation. He must have been convincing enough. The woman relented and said she would be ready to take charge of 'the boy' when he was ready to leave. That didn’t happen. After a long phone call to David and some pleading from Aaron, his father gave permission for Enos to take charge of him.

Enos had stayed at the house while Inez was recovering. He took Aaron to school and picked him up. He made sure the eleven-year-old had breakfast and dinner, had clean clothes, brushed his teeth, and did his homework. He took him every day to visit his mother for nearly a month, while she was in the hospital or in rehab. When Inez was able to come home. he moved back to his own apartment. Even then, he made sure Inez wasn't overtaxing herself. Not something a probationary officer would normally do for his TO. There were raised eyebrows, and maybe some talk. He had been back on duty after two weeks. After six weeks, when Inez returned to the streets, she had already been replaced as his TO.

When Aaron was thirteen, he told Uncle Enos he needed a nickname. Something cool – something L.A. cop cool. So, he dubbed him E and it stuck; to the point Inez started calling him E whenever he was around the house. By the time they were working together again, she couldn't imagine calling him anything else.

It was also around the same time Aaron confessed there was a time when he thought Enos would be his stepfather. A revelation that had taken both Enos and Inez by surprise. They had not considered he would think there was something romantic between them until they looked back on the events of the past two years. _How do you explain to a thirteen-year-old that you love his mother, but not in a romantic way_? Besides, Aaron had a father; mostly absent one, he did have one.

Now, at eighteen, he was as tall as Enos, thinner, almost lanky, with thick, dark hair and blue-green eyes. Aaron Shapiro looked like his dad, David, a sharp contrast to Inez, who was only five four, if she wore two-inch heels, petite, with sandy hair and soft hazel eyes. The kid loved technology. whenever Enos had a computer question, he called Aaron. He also loved baseball and love of the sport had been the catalyst to draw them closer together.

So it began. Turk, and now, Inez and Aaron, had become his family, his home in L.A. The family he chose and who chose him.

~~~~~*~~~~~

After dinner, when Enos got ready to leave, he gave Aaron a big hug, they said their goodbyes, and Inez walked him out to his truck. They hadn't talked about his suspension. He knew what was coming.

"I know what Thompson said that set you off," Inez said. "The witness from the video store was more than willing to detail the entire altercation, word for word."

Enos smiled. "Elektra. She's an old soul. You know, the deep type. I did some checking. Do you know she has a degree in philosophy? I'm thinking of asking her if she wants to be a counselor for the at-risk teen program."

Once E redirected the conversation away from something he didn't want to talk about, any further discussion would be useless. They were both aware of how the Captain had chosen to punish Thompson. If it had been anyone other than E 'defending her honor' she would have boxed their ears. He had done what he had done and that would be the end of it. Just made her love him more.

_**Saturday, August 23, 1997 – Hazzard, Georgia** _

Daisy had spent the day cleaning her room and packing to return to Durham. Her job at the real estate agency was waiting for her and her roommates would be glad for the extra rent again. She could have waited for Sunday to pack. Doing it on Saturday gave her an excuse to put off the one thing she had not done since she came home nearly a month ago. Visit Bertha Jo.

Since BJ didn't go into town often, they hadn't run into each other either by accident or by design. Daisy knew she couldn't put it off any longer. She felt like she was fulfilling the steps of a recovery program. Maybe she was. She knew she needed to see BJ before going back to Duke. If she didn't, she wouldn't be able to concentrate for having left something so important undone.

By mid-afternoon, with the sun still bright in the sky, she had exhausted all her excuses and called BJ to ask if she could come by. By 4:00 p.m. she let Uncle Jesse and the boys know they were on their own for supper and borrowed Uncle Jesse's truck. Dixie had been in storage now for many years. She couldn't afford to keep both the jeep and the motorcycle maintained. And the Harley gave her the feeling of freedom she often needed to experience in the extreme.

The road out to Bertha Jo and Bubba's little farm looked like it was surveyed by a cow; crooked as all get out. So she had to take it slow. Not being an off-road bike, the hog wouldn't have been practical. When she pulled up in front of the house, BJ ran out to meet her and grabbed her in a fierce bear hug as soon as she opened the truck door. "Daisy, I'm so glad to see you, I could cry." Then she ushered Daisy up the porch steps and into the house. "Now, you just sit down, and I'll get us some sassafras tea."

While BJ went to the kitchen, Daisy wondered why she had put this visit off for so long. Bertha Jo, although a little younger, had been one of her best friends growing up and the reason she had chosen her to be her maid of honor. That she had ended up being the bride wasn't BJ's fault.

Daisy had been away more than she had been home for the last several years; between getting married, divorced, working to put herself through school, studying for her PhD...and jilting fiancés. You may not be able to go home again, but you can reconnect with the people you love and with whom you have history. She desperately hoped the same could be true for her and Enos. Sometimes she felt she was getting closer to the answer, then she would feel it slipping away again.

Bertha Jo set two mason jars of weakly colored orange-brown liquid on the coffee table and hugged Daisy again. "I was afraid you didn't wanna' see me."

"BJ, why wouldn't I want to see you?" Daisy said, knowing she had avoided this for the last few visits she had made back to Hazzard.

"How are you doin'?" BJ asked. "I heard you were goin' to the sheriff's office a lot lately. What's that all about?"

 _Small towns_. You might not see each other for a year, and everybody still knows what you're up to when you come home. She sidestepped the question.

"BJ, I'm really sorry it took me so long to come by. I meant to so many times. I wasn't sure what to say."

"It don't matter, Daisy. Heck, we've been friends for a long time. If you got somethin' on your mind, let's talk it out. You kinda look like you need to talk."

"I do...I’m not sure how to start."

"Why don't you tell me about the family? How's Uncle Jesse doin'? Ma said he looked tired the last time she saw him."

"Me and Bo and Luke have tried to get him to go to the doctor, but you know Uncle Jesse. He likens doctors to those five-minute oil change outfits in Capital City. You take your car in for an oil change and they tell you there's all kinds of other fool things wrong under the hood."

"Sounds like Uncle Jesse," BJ said, amused. "My grandma was the same way and she lived to be ninety-nine. So, there might be somethin' in it."

Daisy lazily drank her tea, then asked, "So how many months?" and pointed to BJ's belly.

"I couldn't win any strong person competition in this condition, right? Three months. Baby's due about the end of January."

"I'm happy for you BJ."

"So, what about you, Daisy? How are you doin'? I hear you're getting' closer to your Ph.D."

Daisy took another sip of tea, appreciating the unique flavor of the sassafras root. It had been so long since she had made it, she had forgotten how comforting it was. The big city folk could have their chamomile. For real comfort, sassafras couldn't be beaten. If only it didn't take so much to process. First, you have to dig up the tender sapling roots, then scrub the life out of them, then boil them down.

"Daisy, you alright?" BJ asked.

"Yeah, I was thinking about when we were kids. When we all used to go out huntin' for sassafras root, mountain laurel, and wild strawberries..."

They never went out alone. Enos was always with them - always with Daisy. "Have you talked to him? Since…"

"No," Daisy said, quietly studying her tea. She should have anticipated the question. BJ, of all people, would want to know. It seemed everyone wanted to know. Everyone who had been so closed-mouthed on that day was now deeply invested in how the two of them were faring.

"BJ, can I ask you somethin'?"

"Sure, Daisy."

"Did you know you loved Bubba when you first met him? I mean the endurin' kind, the kind that makes you want to spend the rest of your life with someone kind of love?"

"Gosh, no," BJ laughed. "We couldn't stand each other. Sometimes he can be the most infuriatinist…after I got to know him, he was so sweet and…well, I just fell in love with him. But you've known Enos almost your whole entire life, Daisy. We both have. You had more than thirty years to get to know him."

She couldn’t bring herself to tell B.J. she didn't _know_ Enos. Apparently. The more letters she read, the more she was learning about him for the first time and how far apart they'd become. "Did you have any doubts, BJ? I mean, about marrying Bubba?" she asked.

"Not a single one."

"Maybe you didn't have all the history you had to get past…or lack of it," Daisy said, her mind wandering back to letters not mailed. _Why didn't he mail them? Why couldn't he mail them?_

"I don't understand, Daisy."

"We've barely seen each other in the past ten or eleven years. If Bubba had been gone for such a long time, would you still know who he is, now?"

"I guess not. You and Enos still kept in touch though, right? I mean, you agreed to marry him." BJ could see the answer in Daisy's eyes.

Daisy looked ashamed and said in a low, saddened voice, "No. Hardly ever. He was busy being a cop in L.A. and I was busy…ignoring him."

"Daisy," BJ said, sympathetically. Moving to sit on the couch next to her, she put her arm around Daisy's shoulder. "Sounds like you're bein' awful of hard on yourself, Sweetie. You forget I grew up with him too. I doubt Enos would think that."

"No?" Daisy's eyes were filling with tears. "He didn't say goodbye." She laid her head on BJ's shoulder and cried; something she hadn't been able to do since she sobbed into Rosco’s uniform, four months ago.

He had never before walked away from her without saying goodbye and a promise to come home, not even when he went back to L.A. in '87. The one thing she had feared the most was that she had hurt him so badly and he couldn’t forgive her, never come home. She didn't have any idea how to fix it. _Although, Enos had asked Rosco about her. He was concerned about her. He must not hate her._

"Lets' say we go make supper," BJ said, standing up and holding her hand out to Daisy to take.

"When did _you_ learn to cook?" Daisy asked, wiping her wet cheeks while Bertha Jo pulled her into the kitchen.

"Since Bubba started working double shifts."

_**Saturday, August 23, 1997 – New York, New York** _

Soonie was starting to feel lonely and abandoned, nearly three thousand miles away, and beginning to wonder if accepting the assignment to New York was such a good idea. She'd had to live out of a rented temp unit and the branch office was not much more than a satellite with a few administrative personnel. The work, although interesting, was something she now thought she should have tackled in L.A. _What was she thinking?_

It wasn't the living accommodations. The thing weighing most on her mind was she may have negated any progress she had made with the detective. They were only able to manage phone calls, due to the time difference, on Sundays. When he told her he was on suspension, she had hoped he would call her more often, since he didn't have to be concerned about keeping her up too late. He had still only called her on Sunday.

If she didn't get home soon, she was afraid she would lose all the momentum they had gained. She knew he was harboring some pain or deep hurt and wanted to be able to help him. He had not confided in her. Something else that bothered her. They had only been 'out' a few times and only one time one could stretch into fitting the description of a date. How could she think she was in love with a man with whom she had only known, no, been acquainted with, for a few months.

She picked up the phone and called his apartment.

_**Saturday, August 23, 1997 – Hazzard, Georgia** _

While Bubba washed the dishes, BJ and Daisy sat on the back porch swing. Daisy, relaxed for a change, laid her head against the back of the swing, while BJ enjoyed the sound of the crickets and cicadas, and watched the fireflies dance in the thicket.

"Do you love him, Daisy?"

Now there was the sixty-nine-thousand-dollar question. Of course, she loved him. She wasn't certain if it was the kind of love he needed…and deserved. Reading his letters was like getting to know him all over again. They were rife with glimpses of who he was when they were teenagers; so much seemed to have disappeared over the years or been invisible, or kept locked away for some reason. All she knew for sure was she didn't want to lose him from her life. She thought he would always be there because he had always been there. Now the same might not be true and she couldn't bear the thought – it would be like he died.

"BJ?" Daisy asked, closing her eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Can I use your phone?"

"Sure, Daisy, why would you even have to ask?"

"'Cause it's long-distance."

"Don't you worry about that, Daisy, you go make your call. Me and Bubba will stay out here…Hey, Bubba!" she shouted.

"Yes, Ma'am!" he shouted back.

"Come out here!"

Daisy was amused and felt a little guilty about making Bubba leave his own house.

When Bubba came out onto the porch, BJ asked him to sit with her a while, 'cause 'Daisy needed some privacy for a phone call she wanted to make…and don't ask no questions.'

~~~~~*~~~~~

This time, when Daisy picked up the receiver, she didn't hesitate to dial the number Rosco had given her for Enos's apartment, silently chastising herself for not knowing it. If they had kept in touch, she would have known it. At least she didn't have to call information.

Thinking she might get the answering machine, she was stunned into silence when, only after the second ring, the voice on the other end said, "Detective Strate."

~~~~~*~~~~~

In New York, the call from Soonie went straight to the answering machine.

_**Saturday, August 23, 1997 – Hazzard, Georgia** _

Daisy arrived back at the Duke farm late in the evening to find only Luke downstairs, hanging up a phone call of his own.

"Was that Sophie you were talkin' to?" From the little conversation she heard when she had walked into the house, she knew he had been talking to Sophie, the new woman in Luke's life, the widow of one of his fellow firefighters, the one with two kids.

He nodded his head and sat down at the kitchen table with his hands folded on the table. Luke had been stewing in some kind of pot for the last month. With her back to him, Daisy turned on the faucet and filled a glass with water. She played with the ring on the end of the chain around her neck, then tucked it back under her shirt.

"Do you love her?"

Luke was too troubled and too tired to deny it. "Yeah, I do. More'n I ever thought I could love anybody." Luke put his forehead down on his folded hands, not sure why he'd told Daisy something he had barely admitted to himself.

"No doubts?"

"Nope."

"Have you told her?"

"I can't seem to say the words. Can't get around the fact that I worked with her husband. He was a good man – a good firefighter. And those are his kids."

"You feelin' guilty or jealous?"

Luke closed his eyes. "A little of both, I guess."

"You should tell her. If you feel guilty or jealous or just plain scared, Luke. Tell her. Now. Don't wait and don't hold back. 'Cause the longer you wait…and the more you hold back, the harder it gets to say anything at all. And you might blow your chance at somethin' good. I don't want that for you."

"You speakin' from experience, Daisy?" He saw there were tears tucked away behind her smile.

"Night, Luke. Think about what I said."


	8. Part 1 - Chapter 8

**Part One - Chapter Eight:**

_**Saturday, August 23, 1997 – New York, New York** _

August was hot and muggy in Manhattan most of the summer, in late August unbearably so, especially where tall buildings kept the heat in and the natural breeze out. Having also been gray and drizzly all day, the New York weather had not improved Soonie's mood.

She waited until ten, then decided Enos would likely not be returning her call this late. His concern about keeping her up late was sweet, in the beginning. Now it made her frustrated and annoyed and wondering why she kept trying.

Her mind registered ringing sounds as she had started the descent into half-asleep. It rang a couple of times before she realized the sound was the phone. When she read the caller ID, she grabbed the receiver, nearly knocking the handset to the floor.

"Hi," she said, trying to sound as awake as she could manage.

_"Hey, Soonie. I got your message...hope I didn't wake you up."_

"No, I was only relaxing. It is not easy to sleep here. I am looking forward to coming home."

_Enos wanted to tell her how happy he would be to have her back in L.A. He missed her, while simultaneously reminding himself the result of giving into his wants might have resulted in one relationship dangling by a slender thread; he didn't want to repeat the same mistake._

"You are back at work?"

_"My suspension was over on Wednesday. I spent the last three days catchin' up."_

"No more trouble from Detective Thompson?"

_"No," Enos sighed lightheartedly. "He's been real quiet," he said, with emphasis on 'real'."_

Soonie didn't really want to talk about Detective Thompson. "I am glad you called."

_"I was gonna' call tonight anyway 'cause I'm goin' to Las Vegas early in the mornin'. I volunteered to pick up a prisoner that's bein' extradited back to L.A. so I can follow up with the Las Vegas PD on Jane's case. I think there may be some connection. Guess I'm hopin' more than anything. Starting to grasp at straws...I won't get back till really late tomorrow night."_

"Oh," she said, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "I would ask you if you are taking care of yourself, but I am sure Mrs. Huang has that covered."

_"I'm not likely to go hungry with her around. Speakin' of which," he hesitated, "when you meet her, she'll talk about her grandson, Daniel. When she does, just play along; don't ask to meet him or anything." He sighed. "Daniel was killed in a car accident on the 405 a couple of years ago and she can't bring herself to let go. She won't ask you to talk to him or anything like that...she knows deep down he's gone. She just needs to pretend. Helps her cope."_

Now she remembered why she kept trying. And ' _when_ you meet her' had all the connotations of a future.

"I will remember…I see you got the emails I forwarded from the Ukrainian contacts?"

_"I did. Thanks for gettin' us in touch with those fellas. They're already workin' on it. And I heard back from Interpol. We're gettin' a little closer." He didn't want to go into detail about the thirty-three photos they had sent of other young girls who had gone missing around the same time from the three countries._

"Uncle and I are happy we could help." Soonie had researched the problem and read the staggering statistics. Astoundingly, Human trafficking was not yet a Federal crime.

_"I'd like to meet him sometime. Thank him myself."_

"He would also like to meet you. Perhaps we could take a drive to San Francisco one weekend? Uncle and Aunt have plenty of room."

_"I'd like that...I guess I better let you go now. Goodnight, Soonie."_

"I will see you in a week."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Enos put the phone back in its cradle and went to the nightstand in his bedroom. He picked up the framed photo of Daisy, which had dominated the spot for a decade, and moved it to the tall dresser. She would still hold a place of importance in the room, but it would no longer be the first thing he saw when he woke in the morning.

He whispered the same thing to her photo he had whispered to it for years. “I miss you.”

He missed Soonie more. It was the first time he had admitted it to himself. Three weeks and he hadn’t been able to be with her. Their conversations on the phone were never enough, especially with the time difference. They left him wanting, needing more. While in New York, she was passing her time by practicing for the Halloween Ball, another charity event, and would play for him on those Sundays when their calls could be longer. His phone bill would be humongous. He didn’t care. Last Sunday, she played the violin solo from Scheherazade. The Sunday before, she played the love song from Braveheart. He found it simultaneously relaxing and distracting.

He was more than a little troubled by the thought he missed Daisy because he loved her, and he missed Soonie because he wanted her.

_**Tuesday, August 26, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

Sunday’s trip to Las Vegas had not produced the results Enos had hoped for; a connection for Jane’s case to another homicide under LVPD jurisdiction. The only thing he really accomplished was sharing what he had with Vegas detectives and one prisoner collected and delivered to lockup in L.A.

Answers rarely came easy. Monday was spent following up leads on the video store robberies. Something wasn’t adding up there, and neither he nor Thompson could put their finger on it.

Tuesday morning, he was called out to the address of a stabbing in the 2900 block of Glendale Boulevard. When he arrived at the scene, Dylan Greer was talking to a couple of people he had separated from the looky-loos. Rob Torres escorted him into the area he and Greer had already taped off. Before he could get a rundown from Rob, the paramedics wheeled a stretcher out of the glass door of the insurance brokerage office and loaded the scarfed female victim into the ambulance. They only stopped long enough to inform Enos the woman’s condition was critical and to which trauma center they would be transporting her. He called the forensics team to give them the name of the hospital and ETA of the victim.

“The photo unit’ll be here in a few minutes,” Enos told Torres. In response to Rob’s comments regarding a short blood trail coming out of the building, he added, “Check the perimeter again before Raj and his team gets here. Might want to extend the primary further out. Make sure the passive drops didn’t end where they appear to end. They may pick up again further down the alleyway.” He pointed to the right of the building. “What are you two doin’ here anyway? A little out of your area isn’t it?”

“Got four units tied up on a 10-79 at the mall. So, _we_ took this one.”

“Lucky for me. Tell me what you’ve already got before I go talk to the people Dylan’s got corralled?”

“The victim is the owner. Insurance broker. Karima Al-Fasi, thirty-two. She was stabbed multiple times. Paramedics said they were sure of four serious wounds, maybe more superficial.”

“Yeah, forensics is en route to collect anything they can at the hospital. What else?”

“She was alone; probably arrived early for work. Business doesn’t usually open until ten. One of the other business owners called 9-1-1 at 7:10 this morning, said there was a hooded individual coming out of the insurance office carrying a bloody knife. He’s the guy with Greer. Greer also has an employee, the female, office manager, who arrived shortly after the EMTs. We already put a BOLO out on what little description the witness could give us. There are two patrol units searching the surrounding neighborhoods and business areas now.”

“The victim? She married?”

Rob looked at his notes, “Husband is Muhammad Arif Al-Fasi. He’s been contacted and he’s on his way to the hospital. And...you want to take a quick look inside before anyone else gets in there.”

Enos hugged the building and stepped over to the window, avoiding any undocumented areas, to look inside the office. He combed his hand through his hair and shook his head. “I’ll alert the blood spatter specialists. We’ll need their eyes on this one. And Rob,” he pointed to the words smeared on the wall in what looked to be blood, “make sure the media doesn’t get _anywhere_ near the scene.”

Rob asked, “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Lord, I hope not,” Enos said. Torres knew he and Dylan Greer had been patrol partners during the riots in ‘92. “Thanks, Rob. I’ll call Major Crimes first, then talk to the witness.”

“Will do. Hey, me and Greer are fishing Big Bear this weekend, you interested? You haven’t been fishing with us since you made detective.”

“Sorry, Rob, as much as I love to fish, and especially Big Bear Lake, I can’t this weekend. Got plans. Hope nothin’ happens to keep ya’ll from goin.’” Enos was glanced back at the insurance office, shaking his head as he walked away from Torres.

Still talking on his radio, Enos walked the short distance between the insurance brokerage and the food court tables where Greer was waiting with the two people he had isolated, a balding man in his late forties or early fifties and a woman with dark brown hair who looked to be in her mid-twenties.

“Before you talk to the witness who ID’ed the suspect,” Dylan said, indicating the man, “I think there’s something off about him.”

“Off how?”

“The description he gave of the person exiting the office was pretty f***ing vague – a hooded guy with sunglasses – sounded like the sketch of the uni-bomber. But...he gave one helluva clear description of the knife and the amount of blood on it.”

Enos had become desensitized to Greer’s crude language while on-the-job. A lot of things made the man angry; it was how he vented. More than the streets themselves, riding with him for nearly two years had greatly increased Enos’s thesaurus of unrepeatable adjectives. Off-the-job, Greer, a solid family man, used a much less colorful vocabulary.

“Thanks, Dylan, I’ll talk to him, you talk to the office manager. What’s the witness’s name?”

“Ezra Josiah Williams.”

“Get a list of other employees from the office manager so we can call them in to be interviewed,” Enos said, “and while I’m talkin’ to the witness, run him from priors.”

“Will do. Hey, let me know what you find out?”

“Sure thing, Dylan.”

Ezra Williams was talking genially with the office manager, Selena Garcia, when Enos and Greer approached them. While Greer escorted Ms. Garcia to another of the food court tables, Enos introduced himself to the witness, offered him his hand to shake, and sat on the bench across the table from him.

“Just let me know what I can help you with, Detective. I want to help all I can. Mrs. Al-Fasi is a nice lady and I hate to think of what happened to her. Do you know how she’s doing?”

“I don’t know any more than you do right now. Likely she just gotta’ the hospital. I think she’s hurt real bad, Mr. Williams.” Enos dialed the Blue Ridge up a few notches, as was his habit when he interviewed less than reliable witnesses. His particular style put the innocent more at ease as it was less intimidating to a public used to brusqueness. Sometimes he was able to lull perpetrators into a false sense of security. Inez called it his super-power. He wasn’t sure about that, because it didn’t always work. He simply didn’t know any other way.

“But she’s alive?”

“Yes, Sir, she was when she left in the ambulance.”

The man looked genuinely relieved and pensive at the same time. “You know Mizz Al-Fasi very well, Mr. Williams?” Enos asked.

“No, no, of course not. She keeps to herself mostly. Attends the business owners’ meetings sometimes with her husband but I’ve only talked to her about half a dozen times in the year or so since they opened the office. She’s real quiet and her husband stays pretty close. You know how those people are.”

The man’s eyes darted over to the insurance brokerage office and then away as quickly. He concentrated on folding and unfolding the gum wrapper.

“I know you talked to Sergeant Greer over there,” Enos said, indicating Dylan at the other table. “But would ya’ mind goin’ over it again for me. I’m kinda new at this, so I wanna’ make sure I’m real plain on everything. Wouldn’t want ta’ make any rookie mistakes.”

Ezra recounted how he had arrived at 5 a.m. at his travel agency office and was going out to get a coffee at the coffee bar at the far end of the mini-mall when he saw a man in a hooded sweatshirt and jeans coming out of the insurance brokerage with a bloody knife in his hand.

“What time was that? When you saw the hooded man coming out of mizz Al-Fasi’s office?”

“It was early, before sunrise. She gets there early on Tuesdays for office meetings.”

“Yeah, I see,” Enos looked at the notes Dylan had handed him. “That’s why you couldn’t see the man’s face. I’m a little befuddled, Mr. Williams. If it was still dark-like out, how did you see the knife so good?”

“Well, um, it must have shined in the lights under the overhang. Yeah, must be it. It all happened so fast, then he disappeared.”

“That must explain it, then.” Enos smiled warmly at the man and made like he was laboring over note-making, while he concentrated on Ezra’s hands, and watched his body language.

Then out of nowhere, he said, “How long you been married, Mr. Williams?” He pointed to the wedding ring on the man’s left hand.

“Four years.”

“I ain’t been that lucky,” Enos sighed and looked forlorn (not much of a stretch for him). “You got any kids?”

“My wife has two girls from a previous marriage. They’re both grown. Don’t come around much.”

“Must be nice just you and your wife at home now?”

“We don’t live together...we’re...separated.”

“I’m real sorry, Mr. Williams. “Must be rough.”

“You can call me Ezra.”

“Oh, no, Mr. Williams. I couldn’t do that. I was raised in the deep south. It would be disrespectful.”

“Then, you were raised right.”

“Yes, Sir. But I ain’t perfect. My Aunt Judy used to say I got a wonderin’ eye. Flicked my ears more’n a few of times for lookin’ at the girls. Guess there’s no harm in lookin’ though, right? And I gotta tell ya,’ the girls I grew up with back in Georgia aint’ nothin’ like the girls out here... _she’s_ pretty...mizz Al-Fasi, I mean.”

“Yeah, she’s very pretty,” Ezra said, unfolding the gum wrapper for the tenth time.

“Too bad she hides it under that scarf thing. Can’t remember what they call it. Makes her kind of mysterious. Bet she’s got real pretty hair under there.”

Ezra Williams began to stare more intently at the table and then tore the gum wrapper into little bits.

Enos flipped his notebook closed, stood, put the notebook in the inside pocket of his jacket, and put his hand out again to the witness. “Thank you, Mr. Williams. You've been real helpful. We’ll be in touch.”

Before leaving the scene to forensics, Enos made another call to Major Crimes about getting a search warrant for Mr. Williams’ office and home.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Enos had spent most of the day either at the hospital or taking statements from the other employees. It was around six when he returned to the office to find Elektra leaving a package on his desk.

"What are you doin' here? Anything wrong?"

"No. I wanted to drop off the Schindler tape."

"I guess I got so wrapped up in what you and me were talkin' about, I forgot to take it with me after I bought it. You shouldna' made a special trip. I was gonna' come by later this week."

Elektra put her hand up to protest. "It was on my way. I'm headed to an off-grid bar down the street. A couple of my friends have a singing gig there tonight."

"So, how's the counseling goin'?"

"So far, okay. Not too far into it though. I still have some preliminary training to finish before they set me loose on an unsuspecting public. I won't be working with any teens for another couple of weeks."

When the phone rang on Enos's desk, he told her, "I have to get that. Wait here and I'll walk you downstairs."

While Enos answered his call from the hospital, Elektra, uninvited, planted herself in the chair next to Thompson's desk. "Looks like you recovered," she said, with a bit of 'you got off light' in her smile.

"Yep," he answered, steepling his fingers under his chin. Then, cautiously asked, "Mind if I ask you a question?"

"Like, how does somebody who looks and dresses like me get a gig working with kids?"

"No," he said. "How the _hell_ did he talk you into it?"

She smiled. "I'm not sure what it is...he starts talking and before you know it, you're counseling on the _island of misfit toys_."

Before walking Elektra downstairs, Enos asked Thompson if he could stick around for a while.

Thompson said, "Yep. Got nothing else to do." He did have something else to do but was too intrigued to resist. He had a love/hate relationship with puzzles and the hick from Hazzard was a 10,000 piece doozey.

_**Wednesday, August 30, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

Still unable to get anything out of the victim, Enos and Thompson prepared to re-interview Mr. Williams at his office. As the man's home was too far away to have effectively cleaned up after the stabbing, they decided to present themselves at his office during business hours first.

Before they got out of the car, Thompson said, "Soooo, you want me to do this my way, right?"

"Sure do," Enos said. "You read my report. Mrs. Al-Fasi is in a real sticky situation. Social worker said she's scared to say who it was. Said if we tried to put even gentle pressure on her it would only serve to make her situation worse. So, give it all ya' got."

They entered the building, identified themselves to the receptionist, and asked for Mr. Williams. Taking inventory of the surroundings, Enos noted the posters for Cozumel, The Grand Caymans, and Hawaii on the wall – more than sandy beaches and bathing suits. These were suggestive – just shy of lurid. He was pretty confident Thompson had picked up on it as well.

Mr. Williams greeted them cordially at the door, asked them to be seated, and offered to have his receptionist get them something to drink.

"No, thank you, Mr. Williams. I think we're fine. I hope you don't mind, I brought Detective Thompson here with me today. He's had a lot more experience than me. Like I said, I ain't been doin' this too long and I wanted to be sure a senior detective was here to help out. This is a real important case and I don't want my bein' a rookie to make a bad situation worse. I guess you heard some of the stuff the papers have been sayin,' you know...'bout this bein' a hate crime?"

"Yes, terrible, just terrible. The Al-Fasis are good people, no matter where they're from. Terrible thing that happened to Karima."

Thompson, who had pulled out his notebook, flipped a couple of pages and said, "Mr. Williams, I thought you said you didn't know Mrs. Al-Fasi very well."

"I don't, only spoken to the Al-Fasis a few times."

"Yet, you called her Karima. Sounds to me like you know her a little better than you indicated to Detective Strate here."

"Oh," Enos said, "I think it was a slip o' the tongue, Sir."

Thompson almost lost it when Strate called him 'Sir.'

"Maybe," he said to Strate, "Ezra would like to have known her a little better. Maybe a lot better."

"Now, there's no call for that," Enos said. "I'm sorry Mr. Williams, You been real cooperative so far."

"Detective Strate, did you advise this man of his rights? You know you're supposed to do that."

"Um, uh, no Sir. I didn't think it was nec..."

Cutting him off, Thompson said, "Mr. Williams, before we go any further, I need to advise you of your rights. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can, and will, be used against you in a court of law. You have a right to an attorney prior to and during questioning. If you cannot afford one, the court will appoint one for you. Do you understand your rights?"

Ezra Josiah Williams was aghast. Strate looked aghast.

"I don't understand. I told you what I saw...My God. Am I under arrest?"

"Not yet, Mr. Williams," Thompson said, "Depends on how you answer the questions...Do we need to arrest you?"

"Absolutely not! If this is what the public gets for reporting what they saw, I can understand why so many crimes go unreported."

"Do you understand your rights, Mr. Williams."

"Yes! You need to get out of my office...now!"

"We can do this here, or we can do it at Parker Center. Your choice. But you will have to do it." Thompson drew the warrant out of his pocket and slammed it on Ezra's desk. "So, tell us when you first started having sexual fantasies about Karima Al-Fasi, Mr. Williams. Did you think about her naked?"

Thompson railed at an awestruck, and guilty-looking, Ezra with as obscenely graphic descriptions of sexual activity as Enos had ever heard (and he had heard a lot) and ended with, "Did you stab her because she rejected you?"

"How dare you," Ezra said.

Enos stood, red in the face (something else he hadn't needed to pretend), and addressed Thompson, "You didn't have any call to say those things. Mr. Williams was tryin' to help." He turned to Ezra, "I apologize, Mr. Williams. I guess I ain't got nothin' ta' say about it. You gotta' comply with the warrant."

"Then I want a lawyer!"

"What are you, Strate, his guardian angel?" Thompson turned back to Ezra. "That's your right, Mr. Williams. You should call him, or her, right now. It won't stop the warrant from being served," Thompson stood and instructed Strate to call the uniformed officers in to start the search.

Enos slunk obediently out of the office, saying, "Yes, Sir," once again.

When he came back, he sat with Ezra, still apologizing for Thompson's behavior, and language, while Thompson and the uniformed officers looked through files and searched and took samples from the bathroom and the storage closets. The office was small, so the search didn't take long.

Thompson reappeared in Ezra's tiny office with the evidence bag containing DNA sample vials and another with photos he'd grabbed from another file before they left the office. "Mr. Williams, this," he put a piece of paper on the desk, "Is an order to appear at Parker Center for interrogation first thing tomorrow morning. Be prepared to submit to a DNA swab. And be sure to bring your attorney."

Thompson made a move to leave and turned back to Enos. "Strate. It's time to go."

"Yes, Sir. I just wanna' say goodbye to Mr. Williams."

"You can't ask him any questions, Strate. It's detective 101. He's invoked his right to an attorney."

"Yes, Sir, I know. I won't ask him any questions."

"I'm leaving in fifteen. If you're not in the car, you're on report."

After Thompson left, Enos sat next to Ezra and clasped his hands together in a praying position on Ezra's desk. "I'm real sorry about this, Mr. Williams. I'm hopin' Detective Thompson there is wrong. He may look young, but he's a pretty good detective. An' he's pretty tough." He shook his head apologetically. "If he thinks there's somethin' you're holdin' back it'd go a lot better for you if you just git it off your chest. And if they find your DNA on poor Mrs. Al-Fasi...? They're not gonna find it, are they Mr. Williams? Wait, don't answer that. I should know better. Labs are so backed up, takes a few weeks for results to come back anyway. I hope they didn't find anything in the bathroom, like blood residue or somthin' like that. They can confirm blood residue right away with, you know, the stuff that turns blue under a black light even if you think you done scrubbed it clean? They gonna find that? Ding-dangit, I did it again. Please don't answer that? You gotta have a lawyer present."

Enos let Ezra stew over what he had said for a few seconds. Then, standing, he said, "Well, I guess I better be goin' now before Detective Thompson leaves me behind. Good luck to you Mr. Williams. I sure hope they don't find somethin' they'll use to pin this terrible thing on you before you have a chance to tell your side of it. I surely do."

When Enos slid into the passenger seat, Thompson stared at him like he’d sprouted feathers and shook his head. "You ever thought about going to any casting calls, Strate?"

"Nope. I kinda like bein' a detective. Do you kiss your mama with that mouth?"

"You said no holds barred."

Thursday morning, Mr. Williams showed up with his attorney, saying he would only talk to Detective Strate. After thirty minutes in the interrogation room, Ezra Josiah Williams signed a full confession.

_**Saturday, August 30, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

Enos wasn't on call for the weekend. He was there to work on cross-referencing the photos Interpol had faxed to the HTU, and which Lieutenant Rodriguez, in turn, had personally couriered to his desk.

Inez was in the office as well, since she'd answered the call for a detective to the scene of a domestic dispute turned to a vicious assault in the wee hours of the morning. In the process of checking the chain of custody, she noticed when a tall woman she recognized as 'the violinist from the thing in March' emerged from the elevator and floated into the main office.

Enos wasn't at his desk because he had gone to the bakery down the street to score them some bear claws.

Inez approached her and asked, "Ms. Mun. Are you looking for Detective Strate?"

"Yes. And please, call me Kay." Soonie gave her a warm smile and held out her hand to shake. "And you are Detective De Pina. We only spoke briefly, but I recognize you from the gala. Enos has told me a lot about you and Aaron."

Inez bit her lip and shook Soonie's hand. The woman was one up on Inez - E had shared next to nothing about this woman with her. In fact, other than the day he told her they'd gone on a date, he had been tight-lipped about it. Before she could tell Kay that E was not in the office at the moment, he stepped out of the elevator with a bag of pastries in one hand and Inez's favorite mocha latte' in the other.

"Soonie!" Enos set the bag and latte on a nearby desk and nearly drew her into a hug when he remembered where they were.

Stopping short of the hug, he gave her his biggest Enos Strate grin and then verbalized a horrible thought, "Did I mess up and get the wrong time? I thought your plane wasn't due in until six this evening."

"No, you did not get it wrong. I was already at the airport and had a chance to catch an earlier non-stop flight, so I took advantage of it."

She had called and tried to get the earlier flight and was told it was booked. it was booked. The airline put her on standby and told her to get to the airport well before the departure time and she would have to wait for a no show or cancellation to get on the earlier flight.

"Where are my manners?" Enos said. "Granny'd have my hide. Inez De Pina, you remember..."

Soonie put her hand on his arm. "We have already re-introduced ourselves. You are safe." Then, she presented him with a manila envelope. "I come bearing gifts."

Inez took the opportunity to excuse herself and grabbed the bag and the latte, then headed back to her desk.

"What's this," Enos asked, taking the envelope.

"It is one of the studies you wanted on the concentration of Iodine-131 exposure in Ukraine. I received it by fax before I left and thought I would bring it in person."

Enos put the envelope on his desk and Soonie asked, "Can you walk me to the elevator?"

Once at the elevator, Soonie hesitated only a second, then asked, "Since I am here early and we were going to spend time together this evening anyway, would you mind if we do not go The Bloody Bucket and go somewhere else instead?"

"I don't mind at all," Enos said, though he had wanted her to meet Turk. "Where do you want to go?"

"The L.A. Philharmonic is doing Star Wars this evening."

"Sounds great. But I might stick out like a sore thumb. I don't have anything fancy to wear."

"Enos," she said, with her light laugh which never failed to melt him like a pad of butter on a hot summer day. "The Phil on a Saturday is mostly casual. I am wearing a sundress and sandals. You will be fine."

"Then, I'll be lookin' forward to it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Human trafficking was not illegal in the U.S. until 2000 and not made a Federal crime until 2008.
> 
> Police code 10-79 is a Bomb Threat (according to my research)
> 
> Also, as much as I tried to keep all references to at or before 1997, I missed the fact that Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer (and the island of misfit toys) was released in 2001 - but, then again, Elektra might have been the one who came up with the idea...


	9. Part 1 - Chapter 9

**Part One - Chapter Nine:**

_**Saturday, August 30, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

When Gordon Thompson came into the office around eleven, Inez had already gone home and Enos was still working on the photos Interpol had sent him. Using the table in one of the interview rooms to spread out the photos, he was trying, again, to find a match with the medical examiner photos of Jane, horrific though they were, and the sketch artist's rendering of what Jane most likely looked like when she was alive. He'd read bulletins about facial recognition software being used on a military level or for some large international banking systems. That kind of technology was still in its infancy for law enforcement.

Interpol had sent a synopsis of the case file on each girl along with the photos. There was also the possibility the poor child had had no one where she was from and was not reported missing. Perhaps she was a runaway or lived on the street. It was not uncommon for the homeless to go unaccounted for and not missed or reported missing. It happened in L.A. every day.

Enos rubbed his eyes again and was stretching when Thompson stepped into the room. "Sorry, Thompson, I didn't see anything on the schedule. You need the room?"

"No," Thompson said. He tweaked his left eyebrow and crossed his arms trying to figure how to segue to the reason he was there. "I was wondering how it was going...with your Jane Doe. I heard you got some feedback from Interpol."

Although Enos wondered what ulterior motive Thompson might have for asking, he thought about coming back with ' _how's the high school cadet program going?_ ' but he didn't. The man, if for no other reason than he was a member of the unit, deserved at least a modicum of civility. And Enos Strate was a gentleman when he wasn't being provoked. Working together, they _had_ wrung a confession out of Ezra Williams without having to cause Mrs. Al-Fasi any grief, as well as defusing what might have become a volatile media circus surrounding a possible hate crime. The ADA had been able to exact a gag order as part of a plea deal.

It irked Enos no end it had to come down to plea bargaining. However, his main objective had been to allay Mrs. Al-Fasi's fears that her husband, as well as the male members of her family, might think she encouraged the attack.

"So far, I've eliminated ten, of the thirty-three photos they sent, b'cause they're not the right height. But that information's not completely reliable. Descriptions from parents or relatives aren't accurate compared to the M.E.'s measurement. I'm afraid it's just throwin' the baby out with the bathwater. I had to start somewhere." He crossed his arms and stared at the table full of photos.

"Maybe you're too close to it."

Enos had taken all the courses and read all the manuals and studied all the textbooks which warned about getting too involved with your cases or the victims. His psyche evaluations consistently noted a high level of empathy.

He allowed that it made some, especially here in L.A., and particularly Thompson, think he was naïve and a bit too softhearted for police work. He reckoned that it was better to bear whatever suffering that may cause than to become cold and hard and feel nothing at all.

He’d had his own personal crisis with how the job, and the things which couldn’t be unseen, could tear at a soul from the inside out and he’d survived.

"I know you think I'm obsessin' about this case. Maybe I am...still have to try."

"No, I didn't mean you're obsessive. I mean...I mean...you're too focused. It skews the perspective. I know _you_ think I don't focus enough. Maybe you need to step back from it. Go fishing or bowling, or whatever it is you do to get your mind off things. Give it a rest and come back with a fresh eye on Monday. It will probably jump right out at you."

Enos couldn't deny it. The man-made sense. He’d been staring at the file for weeks and the frustration was beginning to wear on him. He knew that. Turk was fond of saying that once he got an idea in his head...

"You're probably right," he said and saw, not gloating, but genuine interest on Thompson's face. As much as he was loathe to admit it, he wondered if the friction between them had been as much his fault as Thompson's. Gathering the photos, put them back in the folder and tucked it under his arm.

"Thanks," he said. "And thanks for your help the other day."

"Yep. No problem."

Before he left the office, he asked Thompson if he'd ever been to The Bloody Bucket, already knowing the answer.

"You mean the country bar on La Cienega?"

"That's the one."

"No, never been."

"Most of the gang in the unit will be there tonight. We do it once a month."

"Yep. I know." Thompson didn't state the obvious – he had not been invited before.

"Got a friend from narcotics division I haven't seen in awhile comin' too. It's a real hoot. You should join them."

"Wait. You're inviting me and it sounds like you're not planning to be there?"

"I'm goin' to a concert tonight at the music center with...I have a date. We might be by after that."

Enos hadn't consulted Soonie and thought he might bring it up before the concert started. She hadn't said she didn't want to go to The Bloody Bucket at all, she had said she wanted to go to the concert instead.

"I'm not sure the rest of your _gang_ would be too thrilled with me showing up uninvited. Unless you hadn't noticed, I've been persona non grata lately."

"Yeah, sorry about that. I know a country bar might not be your cup o' tea, not really theirs either, truth be told. We kinda got into the habit. It's what Cam likes to call a 'high energy' place. You can kick up your heels and make as much ruckus as you want without the management throwin' you out, within reason...and it serves alcohol."

"I didn't think that you drank."

"I don't, but they do."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Before he was scheduled to pick up Soonie, he spent several hours of the afternoon cleaning his apartment, trying to focus on something other than Jane's case. When he started dusting the dresser in his bedroom, his mind went immediately to the conversation with Daisy the week before.

He hadn't looked at the caller ID before he answered with his rank and surname. He rarely got calls at his apartment which were not work-related, so he fell into a well-worn habit.

He thought the line had gone dead or that it might be a crank call for a few seconds, then he heard her voice for the first time in four months.

" _Enos_?"

"Daisy..." He slumped into the desk chair, propped his elbow onto the desk and buried his head in his free hand. Daisy's picture was staring at him from the nightstand in the other room.

" _Enos, it's so good to hear your voice_."

"Oh, Daisy, it's good to hear yours. I'm so sorry…"

" _Enos, what would you have to be sorry about? I'm the one who should be apologizin' to you."_

"No. It was all my fault."

" _How could it ever be your fault? I'm the one who let you down_."

"You could never do that, Daisy. Never in a lifetime. I shoulda' given you some time. I shoulda' been satisfied…" Enos took his face out of his hands.

" _Now you listen to me, Enos Strate. If you think I'm gonna let you get away with shoulderin' the blame for what happened, you got another think comin'._ "

"Daisy, it doesn't matter who's to blame. I don't wanna talk about that. I miss you so much."

"Oh, Enos. _I miss you too. I can't begin to tell you how much. I should have called you sooner. I should have kept in touch all those years..._ "

"It doesn't matter now, Daisy. It's all water under the bridge. I wanna know how you've been doin'. How's the work goin' on your doctorate?"

" _...it's almost all over but the shoutin'. I should be working on my final dissertation when I get back to Duke_."

"I'm so proud of you Daisy. When are you goin' back?"

" _Tomorrow_."

"I guess you'll be pretty busy…"

" _Not too busy to finish readin' your letters. I'm taking them with me. The ones I haven't read, anyway_."

"...You read my letters?"

" _Of course I read them. Some of them two or three times. I'm up to June 1993. So, when did you get to be a detective? I'm so proud of you._ "

"Oh, some months ago."

" _You didn’t write anything in your letters about wanting to be a detective. From all I read, you liked bein' out there keepin' the streets safe. More than once, you said you didn't want a desk job or to be in a supervisor position_."

"Well, you know, Daisy, things change."

" _Do those changes have anything to do with all the missing weeks that didn't have a letter_?"

"You noticed, huh?" He thought of the box of thirty or so letters in the bottom of the closet which he had removed before packaging the rest in the shopping bag and the ones for '80 and '81...he’d burned those before returning to Hazzard.

" _I noticed_."

"I guess there were some things I wanted to tell you in person. Didn't want you to read it in a letter."

" _Maybe we can talk about it next time_."

"I'm so glad to hear you say there'll be a next time. I hope that won't be too long. I could call you...only if you don't mind."

" _Of course, you can call me, Enos. You shouldn't have to ask. You're so sweet. How could I have done..._ "

"Now, Daisy, I thought we went over all that. I don't want whatever happened to ruin everything we've been to each other all these years. Please, Daisy. Let's don't go backwards."

" _Okay, Enos. You're right. I guess I better go now, I'm calling from a friend's phone_. _I'll call you soon and you my number in North Carolina._ "

"Goodnight, Daisy. It sure was so good talkin' to you."

" _Goodnight, Enos_."

When he hung up, he noticed the flashing red light on the answer machine and picked up the message from Soonie. He understood for the first time he had meant what he said to Daisy the day he had proposed. He couldn't wait another thirty-two years. He hadn't been able to get the words out tonight. He knew, however, at some point, they would have to talk about it.

~~~~~*~~~~~

After leaving the afternoon concert, it was still early enough to swing by The Bloody Bucket as they had originally planned. He wanted Soonie to meet his friends. Although, he had not met any of Soonie's friends. He simply assumed she would have a lot of friends.

He knew about her Aunt and Uncle who lived in San Francisco. The little he knew about her family in South Korea was their relationship was strained, so he hadn't pressed her on the subject. He did know she had a four-year old niece she hadn’t met.

Then he started thinking about why she might not have offered to have him meet her friends. More than once he had wondered what in the name of all that's right in the world she was doing hanging around with a backwoods country boy like him. Maybe her friends wouldn't approve.

He was letting his thoughts run turkey tail. As much as he hated to admit it, maybe Thompson was right. He definitely needed to take a break.

Soonie had wanted to end the evening with a quiet dinner at her apartment but Enos had been so eager for her to meet his friends, she couldn't resist.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Enos and Soonie arrived at The Bloody Bucket about seven to find most of the unit detectives, other than those on duty or on-call, had already arrived and were all sitting at the large round table in the back of the bar.

As they made their way to the table, they passed a waitress who asked if Enos wanted his regular and then did a double take at the stunning woman, with the Crystal Gayle hair, on his arm.

"And for the lady?" she asked.

"I will have a Dos Equis with a lime, thank you."

"Sure thing, Sugar. Have a seat and I'll bring it right over."

Arriving at the table, Enos made the introductions to Inez, who she had already met, Camila (Cam) Morales and her husband Geraldo, Angela Kim, Rafael (Raffi) Espinosa and his wife Susan, and finally to Turk and his girlfriend Shawnee. To his surprise, Gordon Thompson arrived at the table with a mug of draft beer and placed it on the table in front of the empty chair next to Angela Kim.

Although most of the bar patrons wore cowboy chic, the detectives were dressed in street casual. Thompson had shed the Italian suit vest, tie and laundry pressed shirt he had been wearing that morning, in favor of grey slacks and a maroon button-down shirt.

"And this is Detective Thompson. Thompson, this is Mun, Kyung-soon."

Soonie addressed the table and said, "Please, call me Kay."

Inez noted, with some perturbation, that Enos had called her Soonie when he first saw her at the office. _He had a pet name for her, how cute_.

When the waitress, who everyone referred to as Summer, brought Soonie's beer and Enos' buttermilk, she also delivered a huge tray of buffalo hot wings, ranch dip, nachos with chili and cheese sauce, fried green tomatoes, another three pitchers of beer for the table and a promise to Enos of a refill on the buttermilk whenever he was ready for it.

Thompson was afraid he was putting a crimp into the conversation when Angela Kim asked, "Detective Thompson, would you like to dance?"

"Thanks," he said and stood to take her hand and let her lead him onto the dance floor.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Cam turning to Enos, pointed to the departing Thompson. "How the hell did you accomplish that?"

"He offered the olive branch, I just took it. Ya'll need to give him a chance to redeem himself."

Cam said, "I guess we can try." She did not sound sincere.

After they had eaten some wings, and tonight's band started playing _When You Say Nothing at All_ , Enos asked Soonie if she would like to dance. It appeared Thompson wanted to stay out on the dance floor for another round. Enos wasn't sure if another go-round was what Angie wanted.

While Enos and Soonie danced, she was aware they were being watched by his friends still at the table.

At the table, Turk was sipping on his beer watching Inez watch Enos and Soonie. "Spit it out, Inez. Whatever it is. You know you want to."

"I wonder if that is going to stop being weird?" she said, indicating the dance floor.

"I think they look good together. It's about damn time," Cam said.

"You don't think he's moving too fast?" Inez asked.

"Man's over forty, not eighteen," Turk answered. "He already wasted thirty years of his life chasing a woman. How slow do want him to move?"

Inez turned her attention back to her drink. "Rebounds never work. I know him and it definitely won't work for him."

"Who says it's rebound? You only think you know him. I've known him for seventeen years, back when we were both young and stupid and reckless. You keep an extra blouse in your trunk in case somebody vomits on you? I used to keep an extra pair of underwear in the trunk for when he was driving. Man's fearless."

"Don't you think you're exaggerating a little?" Raffi said, snickering.

"If I'm lyin' I'm dyin.'"

"Seriously?" his girlfriend, Shawnee, said. "Hard to think of that sweet, gentle man as reckless."

"Baby, you have no idea. For example, and this is the tamest I can think of – and I'm cleaning it up - he was trying to get information out of this dude about who was threatening his neighbor. So, 'sweet and gentle' there cuffed the SOB to the head rail, drove the patrol car, with me in it, ninety to nothing to the edge of a cliff on Mulholland and only stopped it when the front wheels were damn near hanging over the edge. That's when I started packing the extra shorts. Had to see a police psychologist because of his wild driving."

By the time he finished, as he had added some animated hand gestures to the tale, Shawnee was giggling. "Did he get the information?"

"Turkey sang like a bird. He didn't have an extra pair of tighty-whities either."

While Turk's girlfriend was still laughing hysterically, Inez was not amused.

"He's older than her," Inez said flatly.

Shawnee excused herself, saying it was getting a little too deep for a Saturday night and went to the little girls' room.

"Nine years. Give it a rest," said Turk. "Better yet, here's a thought. What if it's not rebound at all. They met at the fundraiser in March, right? More than a month _before_ he went back on that fiasco visit to Hazzard. You're the one who said he was going for the hard sell with her on the community center thing. Maybe he was hitting on her."

"One, E does not 'hit' on women. Two, he had an engagement ring for Daisy in his pocket? No, not him."

"The subconscious is a tricky thing," Camila's husband said. He _was_ a psychologist.

"I thought you were a better friend than that," Inez, ignoring Geraldo's remark, snapped at Turk.

"Whoa. We shared nearly a year of our reckless youth in the same patrol car. We hang out here or at the gym or the firing range and watch the Lakers game on the couch with beer and buttermilk. We're pals, not sorority sisters. He stays out of my love life and I stay out of his. It's why we're still friends…My point is, what if he fell for her the first time he met her."

"He went back to Georgia and proposed."

"Maybe, just maybe...he had to give it one more try before he gave up. Daisy says yes, he gets what he's wanted for three decades. She says no..." He looked at Enos and Soonie on the dance floor and lifted his beer mug to them. Enos, having no idea what was going on at the table, acknowledged Turk's gesture with a thumbs up.

Then, on the dance floor, Enos, without warning, tightened his grip on Soonie's waist and right hand at the same time and moved her effortlessly out of the way of an oncoming male patron. Thompson and Angela, who had ended up in their immediate vicinity, also had to move out of the way.

Having missed the couple, the man barreled up to the bar and started being obnoxious. Over the next fifteen to thirty seconds, he harassed the barmaid to the point Soonie asked, "Should you be arresting him or something?"

Enos put up his hand to Thompson and shook his head to indicate he should take no action. "That's Virgil. His girlfriend probably threw him out again and he's drownin' his sorrows in whiskey. If he gets much worse, Bonnie Sue'll most likely be able to take care of it. She's from Texas and has three big brothers."

Thompson knitted his eyebrows.

Without warning, the drunk whirled around and, seeing Enos, threw himself at him. With an arm draped over Enos's shoulder, Virgil ran his eyes lasciviously up and down Soonie's body.

"She's real pretty, Enos. Where'd ya' get her?"

"Virgil!" Enos warned. "I think maybe you need to calm down before Bonnie Sue has enough of this disorderly conduct and decides to throw you outta here again."

"I ain't never been thrown outta nowhere by no girl. Lady, you sure got pretty eyes…."

Before Virgil could finish, he was face-down on the nearest table with Bonnie Sue Thorndike pinning his arm behind his back.

"Don't hurt him Bonnie Sue," Enos said, "he's not responsible. Last time he had to have three stitches."

"Alright," Bonnie Sue said, still pinning the struggling Virgil to the table. "But only for you."

She led Virgil out of the bar and threw him into the street, yelling after him, "Go make up with Connie before I have to hurt you."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Enos had held tight on Soonie's waist through the whole incident. When the music started again, they were dancing to _It's Your Love_. By the time the song was a third of the way through, her head, with its long, soft strands of hair caught in his hand, was nestled into the crook of his shoulder and he had captured her right hand and pressed against his chest.

Enos whispered into her hair, "Virgil was right about one thing. You do have pretty eyes."

When the dance ended, and Enos and Soonie made their way back to the table, he had not let go of her hand.

Turk saw Inez eyeing them again. He got up from his chair to let the returning Shawnee through to her chair, then leaned over to Inez and said, "Daisy was _his_ addiction, are you sure _he_ isn't yours?"

She glared darts through Turk. Before she could react or respond, Enos and Soonie had arrived.

"Well, ya'll look dead serious," Enos said.

Turk, now back in his seat, peered furtively into his beer mug, and before taking a swig said, "We were talking about narcotics."

"Hey, I've been meanin' to ask how's it goin' over there?" Enos said. "You need to get into somethin' sane that doesn't put a target on your back?"

"Nah, I fit in there. You know me, the Turkey knows turkeys. Besides, I won't be on the streets come Monday morning."

"What?"

"Captain called me into his office Friday afternoon and gave me a task force."

"Congratulations Buddy-roe! I worry about you out there." He slapped Turk on the back without letting go of Soonie's hand. "I thought you'd never give up the streets."

Turk looked directly at Inez and said, "Everything changes."

_**Sunday, August 31, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – 1:00 a.m.** _

Enos and Soonie closed down the bar well after midnight. They were the last patrons left who didn't have to be poured into a cab and Bonnie Sue was ready to go home.

If she spoke to him during the drive to her apartment, he didn't hear it. In his thoughts, he was still holding her. As soon as she was in his arms on the dance floor, as soon as he felt the warmth of her body next to his and felt her heartbeat against his chest - he knew what he had to do. He had delayed the inevitable as long as he could – enjoyed the moment as long as he dared. What he had been doing was wrong. He knew it even while he was letting it happen.

Instead of stopping at the front of the building, as he had done the first time, he parked the truck in the guest lot, turned off the motor and un-clipped his seat belt. Soonie un-clipped hers and started to reach for the door handle when he caught her hand in his.

"I have to tell you something." Staring into the dashboard, he nervously massaged the back of her hand with his thumb. He might have to let it go soon. Too soon.

Soonie could feel the heat of his touch. The dread in his words caused her to imagine all sorts of things he could be about to say - none of them something she wanted to hear.

With great, and serious, deliberation he began to make his confession. Almost as if he was walking the last mile, he told her everything about Daisy, their childhood, how much he had wanted to marry her for so many years, the weddings which never happened.

She had moved closer on the bench seat of the truck and pulled their clasped hands into her lap while listening to him go on and on about another woman. Even in the synopsis, it was not a short story.

Soonie listened quietly and when he got to the part about how it had all ended in April, she squeezed his hand a little tighter and laid her head on his shoulder. As usual, in his scenario he was the one at fault, never Daisy – _because he truly believed he had brought it on himself, and Kate had not challenged him on that point so he knew it was probably true._

A welcome silence settled into the cab of the truck. She pulled her legs onto the seat and scooted closer. She was still holding tightly to his hand in her lap. He didn't want to let go.

He turned to reach out with his other hand and pulled her to face him. Studying her face from the inside corners of her eyes, dipping toward the bridge of her nose, he ran his thumb over the corner of her lips and down to the soft curves of her chin. Closing his eyes, he leaned in so his forehead was touching hers and whispered, "All these years, I never thought there could be anyone but her…"

To keep him from confessing something she was afraid to ask and did not want to hear, she moved her head ever so slightly upward to catch his lips with hers. _'She is there and I am here and she will have to fight to get you back.'_

The taste of her kiss reminded him of honeysuckle nectar and fresh morning dew. He let go of her hand only so he could pull her closer.

_**Sunday, August 31, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

Still tasting Soonie's kiss, Enos showered and dressed early for church. The photo of Daisy on the dresser no longer dominated the room. He could look at it without pangs of regret for what might have been. He knew, now, it was never supposed to be...they were never supposed to be. He'd had it wrong all these years.

What he had felt about Daisy was conviction, not certainty. He was certain about Soonie. What's more, he knew, with certainty, she felt the same.

He would be picking her up by ten so they could make the eleven o'clock service. He slipped the brand-new Nokia cellular phone the department had just issued into his inside jacket pocket, sat at the desk, took out a package of writing paper from the desk drawer, and started a letter to Daisy.

It began, _'My Sweet Daisy, I will always love you.'_

~~~~~*~~~~~

Deacon's church was non-denominational. Had it been otherwise, he would not have been interested in attending. His Aunt Judy had thumped the bible at him enough when he was younger, and he didn't believe you needed the fear of hell to do the right thing. He had seen good church-goin' folk do bad things during the week and go to church on Sunday for absolution. He didn't want any part of it. Deacon's church was different. Kindness and brotherly love was its mantra and he saw it in practice as well as preaching.

This Sunday, there was a picnic, with barbeque, fire-roasted corn, zucchini salad, cucumber salad, and Enos's favorite, black-eyed-pea salad. The picnic was one of the ways the church raised money.

Eddie Deacon approached Enos and Soonie while they were enjoying their meal and asked, "I have a project I need to talk to you about. You think I could tear you away from this lovely lady for a few minutes?"

"Soonie, you mind? Prob'ly won't take long, then we can go for that ride we talked about." He wanted to drive to the area northeast of Burbank to see the land he'd had his eye on for a while. Earlier in the week, he had called the owner and found the thirteen-acre plot was still up for sale, and, better yet, the price had dropped and he was able to lease the land and the cabin with an option to buy. Apparently, not many people could see the potential he did.

"Of course not, we have all day," she said, "And I am enjoying this barbeque."

While Enos sipped on his iced tea and talked to Eddie Deacon on the back steps of the church, Octavia Deacon slipped into the chair next to Soonie.

"Glad you like it," Octavia beamed. "Best in the west. But Enos keeps sayin' his Uncle Jesse's barbeque sauce is pretty righteous – some sort of secret recipe. Told him I was gonna' have to taste it to believe it."

Soonie smiled. "I have not tasted Uncle Jesse's sauce," although she hoped to someday, "but this is delicious."

"Enos tells us you've been goin' out for a while?" Octavia Deacon, who had a gruff no-nonsense exterior and a heart of gold, was rarely shy about getting straight to her point.

"A few months."

"You know, I've known that man for more than four years and I don't believe I've ever seen him bring a date to church."

"I hope to be the only one."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Octavia, said, her face studying Soonie's. She had observed them both off and on for the last few hours.

Having wrapped up their impromptu project meeting, Enos and Eddie Deacon strode back to the table. Holding out his hand for her to take, Enos asked Soonie, "Are you ready to take that ride?"

As Enos and Soonie walked away, Eddie, having noticed the pensive look on his wife's face, asked, "You've got something on your mind. Out with it woman."

Watching the truck drive away, she said, "You know I think the world of Enos."

"We all do. He's been a good friend to us and the church." Eddie said.

"And if anybody hurt him I'd have their eyeballs in my next martini?"

"I believe you would, Mrs. Deacon. Seriously, what is it with you women? He's not a porcelain doll."

"You're not understand' me. I'm not worried about him."

Eddie looked confused.

"That man feels things real deep and there's a burnin' passion behind his sappy grin. And he's been lonely far too long."

"Ah, I see. You think the pretty Ms. Mun's the one playing with fire."

"No, Mr. Deacon. I'm hopin' she's not playin' with a loaded gun."

~~~~~*~~~~~

The property was located on the side of a hill facing away from the city, so the view was mostly grazing land and the Verdugo Mountains. There was no place in the San Fernando Valley not prone to either fires or earthquakes, so it didn't matter where the land was situated. With regard to earthquakes, one was as likely to be impacted by it in downtown L.A. as anywhere else. However, the acreage was near the Verdugo fault line which had, a low probability of a maximum credible earthquake (6.7) occurring. The greatest threat potential was from wildfire.

There would always be a risk. It was something L.A. County residents lived and dealt with year in and year out.

Before the truck had made it to Glendale on I-5, Enos received a call on his cell phone alerting him to come into the office.

The future would have to wait for another day.


	10. Part 1 - Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fall foliage on the way to Raleigh-Durham airport was not as picturesque as a ride on the Blue Ridge Parkway would have been.
> 
> Daisy Duke wasn't headed for Hazzard.

**Part One - Chapter Ten:**

_**Friday, October 31, 1997 – Somewhere in the air – heading west** _

" _Heads Carolina, Tails California"_

The jet had just leveled off at 33,000 feet on its way to Denver. Barebones economy offered little in the way of choice. It was a two hour layover in Denver or pay $150 more for the ticket. Daisy stared out of the window of the plane at the floor of clouds below the wing. She wasn't crazy about sitting over the backside of the wing, but beggars could not be choosers. The clouds were gray and she could see puffs of illumination she knew was lightning in them.

She felt a slight touch on her upper arm and turned to see the passenger on her left was trying to tell her the flight attendant was trying to get her attention.

"What would you like to drink?" the attendant said, again.

"I'm sorry, I was day dreamin'," Daisy said, "I'll have an iced tea if you have it."

When she received the drink, she took a sip, then returned to staring out the window.

Her dissertation was finished and turned in to the committee. It was all about waiting now. After she turned in the paper three days ago, she had been as fidgety as a four-year-old at Sunday service. Reading Enos's letters seemed to calm her; take her out of herself for a while.

Last night, she had retrieved the shopping bag from her closet once again. With only thirty or so to go, she intended to finish them. Talking to Enos a couple of times a week had been so much easier after reading them. She had a frame of reference – Turk, Aaron, Inez, the community center, coaching little league baseball, SWAT training…

She thought she knew him much better now – maybe better than she had ever known him, even when they were young. He had written things on those pages he had not revealed about himself in all the years they had both lived in Hazzard. She knew how he felt about being a police officer, how he helped people, not just put them in jail. Sometimes what he had written made her laugh, sometimes cry, sometimes wonder why they couldn't have shared those moments when he might have doubted himself or been proud of something he'd been a part of.

Knowing she was as much to blame. Did she ever give him the chance? Did she ever ask? It was still the missing words - the missing time - causing the ache in her heart to make its way into her throat.

As much as he had poured his heart out about how he felt about her, there was no mistaking the subtext...he would never be happy back in Hazzard. If she loved him, if she wanted to be with him, she had to go to him, she had to want to be there, with him...

By the time she read the last letter, dated September 15, 1996, it was two in the morning on Halloween. She was off work for the weekend and had originally planned to visit Uncle Jesse at the farm. The more she thought about all she didn't know about Enos - the man she had almost married, the man she had jilted, the man she had loved deeply when she was sixteen - the more she wanted to know about what he had not been able to tell her.

And, Why?

By 5:00 a.m. she had booked her ticket over the phone, packed a bag for three days, and was headed out on the hour-long ride to Raleigh-Durham airport.

_**Friday, October 31, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – 7:45 p.m.** _

From the airport, Daisy had called Enos's apartment phone and his cell phone, with no answer at either. All she could do was leave a message on his landline. She had not booked a hotel, so she decided to go to his apartment. Maybe he would have come home by the time she arrived.

Daisy arrived at Enos's apartment around 7:30 p.m. Now that she was actually there, she was nervous about knocking on his door and pulled back a couple of times before her knuckles hit the wood. She hadn't told him she was coming to L.A. because she was afraid she would let him talk her out of it. After taking several calming breaths, she finally knocked. There was no response. She knocked again, a little louder this time.

It was Friday night, Halloween night. What was she expecting? _Maybe he needed to pull a double shift._ _Wait, there was a country bar he liked to frequent with friends from work; that must be where he was. Why wouldn't he answer his mobile phone?_ Then, she remembered the Bloody Bucket was only on Saturday nights. Deciding that she couldn't camp out in the hallway, she grabbed her small rolling bag and had turned to leave when his neighbor opened her door.

"Are you looking for Enos?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I thought he would be home by now."

"You're Daisy, aren't you?"

"Yes, Ma'am. And you must be Mrs. Huang."

"He went out earlier all dressed up in a tux. He looked so handsome. He has some charity function to go to tonight. Guess you might have got your wires crossed?"

"No, Ma'am, he didn't know I was coming. It's a surprise."

"Ah, I see." Mrs. Huang said, her eyes wide. "Would you like to wait in my apartment? Not sure how late he will be home. And I don't have his mobile phone number. Don't trust those new gadgets anyway. I made some ginseng tea for me and Daniel, but he's not much on tea these days, so there's plenty."

One of Enos's letters had been about Mrs. Huang's grandson, Daniel. It was so sad. Enos had been the patrol officer answering the call to the accident scene, and he’d been the one who had to notify Mrs. Huang. It was one of the letters which had made her cry.

"Thank you. Tea would be nice."

"You're as pretty as your picture."

"Thank you."

While Mrs. Huang was getting tea, Daisy's eye caught the edge of the L.A. times peeking out from under a couple of magazines on the coffee table and absentmindedly picked it up. Reading the times had almost become a habit now, although she usually read the weekend edition. 

She gasped involuntarily. A third of the front page was the beginning of a story about a fiery crash of a detective vehicle following a morning raid by SWAT on a house in Hollywood Heights, complete with a color photo. Enos on the ground, easily identifiable, and some other detective she didn't recognize with his hands under Enos's arms, both next to a car in flames.

"What is it young one?" When Mrs. Huang saw what Daisy was reading, she smiled and said, "Oh, that's Wednesday evening's paper. He walked away with only a bump on his head. The other detective pulled Enos out of the car before it caught fire."

The frail-looking little woman was so matter-of-fact, she might have been talking about a trip to the grocery store.

"Even after he was shot last year, he keeps telling me he has less chance of getting hurt on the job than a construction worker. I keep telling him I worry more about how much salt he eats. Man loves his soy sauce." She sighed, "Just like my Daniel."

Daisy tried her best not to react to the news about Enos being shot. She took a few seconds to gather her thoughts. Her mind started wondering in ten different directions at once, none of which shed a good light on her.

"Last part of September...when he was shot..." She guessed at the date the letters stopped. She had figured that much out. Another reason she got on the plane.

"I believe it was. Surgeons at Cedars did a good job. I hardly notice the scar anymore. Shirtsleeve covers it most of the time. Ended his tour of duty with SWAT, though."

Daisy was consumed with curiosity but did not want to let on about how much she didn't know about Enos. Something else for her to feel guilty about.

Daisy spent the next couple of hours with Mrs. Huang, waiting for Enos to return, learning more about his comings and goings, his eating habits, run-ins with the local gangs, his determination to get young prostitutes off the street...

That tidbit of information had been a real eye-opener. Mrs. Huang was a wealth of knowledge. In the two-plus hours she spent with Mrs. Huang, she learned as much, possibly more, about Enos Strate than she had by reading his letters. She could have saved a lot of time by coming to L.A. and hanging out with the sweet old lady sooner. The time seemed to fly by until Mrs. Huang, ears of a bat, heard something in the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Heads Carolina, Tails California - Jo Dee Messina, 1996


	11. Part 1 - Chapter 11

**Part One - Chapter Eleven:**

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – 3:00 a.m.** _

Enos could hear Inez in the kitchen fixing a pot of coffee. At three in the morning, the sound was deafening. Or was that just how it seemed? His head was throbbing, his nose hurt, and his eye was beginning to sting. He had no idea how he had driven here – he didn't consciously remember it. Muscle memory? The truck drove itself? He couldn't say. He didn't remember ringing the doorbell.

He remembered Inez looking thunderstruck when she’d answered the door...or thought he did. She'd herded him into the living room and sat him on the couch. "You look like death warmed over."

He remembered saying something.

"No, I mean you look like hell." She had felt his forehead to see if he was running a temperature. "What are you doing here? I thought you and Kay went to that overdressed Halloween shindig."

He remembered he hadn't answered, and Inez had said she would make some coffee. Was it all women or only Inez and Kate who thought a cup of coffee could solve everything?

 _Possum on a gum…he was still in his tux_. The bow tie was starting to strangle him so he ripped it untied and pulled it off. While he sat on her couch, his head in the palms of his hands, he tried to make heads or tails of how his life had suddenly and inexplicably gotten so messy.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Wednesday, the 29th, the day of the raid. Then was when it started, at least that was as far back as he could remember. It was only the tux that made him think...had he lost two days?

The past two months had been the best he could remember. He and Soonie were seeing a lot of each other. Slowly, he'd been able to trust himself to be _alone_ -alone with her. With her nestled in his arms on the sofa in her apartment, he had been able to watch the movie he'd been avoiding for three years. Elektra, wise girl that she was, had been right. And as long as Soonie was there, everything was right with the world. Lately, they had spent more evenings at her apartment. Each time, he'd stayed a little later and it had been harder for him to leave. Of late, he had also been taking a lot of cold showers.

His cases at work had made a lot of progress as well. Enos still checked on Mrs. Al-Fasi once a week to be sure she was not being subjected to any backlash because of the stabbing. After a while, he realized her husband loved her very much and was not likely to let her be hurt again, in spite of the other male members of his family.

And Jane had a name - Radmila Kozlova - thanks to Gordon Thompson, who Enos had subsequently dubbed 'Eagle Eye.' He did love his nicknames – it was his thing. They had found a way to keep from irritating each other at least while they were working together.

Six weeks ago, after Maria Flores had whittled down the thirty-three potentials Interpol had provided to five, using the level of Iodine-131 contamination found in the reports provided by Soonie's client contacts in Ukraine. Somehow, they had managed to get their hands-on studies done in Belarus. The girls were all from different areas of the small country east of Moscow; all taken from their cities or villages within the last two years. There were probably more, and he'd had to remind himself to focus on the ones they might be able to find now - alive.

When Thompson asked if he could help, Enos jumped at the offer. He was getting too close again. Reading Interpol's case files several times, Thompson had spotted a single note on one of the children's descriptions about the possibility of a birthmark on the sole of her right foot. It was a tiny footnote. Apparently, the description of Radmila had been taken from a cousin who was speaking for a grieving mother. The descriptions of the other missing girls, having been given directly by their parents, were more precise. They had sent for a DNA sample to match to their victim and received a hairbrush the mother who, fortunately, had not been able to part with it. It took more than two weeks to get the results – slow as molasses in January.

Investigations took an inordinate amount of time without the infrastructure and instant communication being developed at the same time they needed it. This one had netted not only a name for the victim, but it had also established a common thread among the five, including Radmila, which had identified their abductor. A BOLO was issued, and he was arrested at LAX. That led to information about a house in the suburbs being used as a distribution point for slave domestic labor, including sex workers, and they were ready with warrants in hand by early morning two days ago.

_**Wednesday, October 29, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – 6:00 a.m.** _

Surveillance of the residence in Hollywood Heights had identified two of the four missing teens taken from Belarus and an additional three among the photos from Interpol as children missing from Ukraine. A high-risk warrant had been issued covering everything but the kitchen sink. The evidence haul alone was thought to be massive enough to require a week to catalog and document.

Deciding they made a pretty decent team when they weren't sparring over method or other things, and surprising both Inez De Pina and Captain Mallory, Enos had requested Thompson be included in the raid. The only point on which they had been at odds was the timing. Thompson argued that waiting would net more suspects. Enos argued there was enough in what the surveillance revealed. The most important thing was to rescue the victims they had identified as soon as possible and hope they would be able to find evidence that would lead to the rescue of more victims. Enos, who had point on the case, won the argument and the raid was set for early Wednesday morning.

The SWAT van rolled quietly into the neighborhood, with Enos and Thompson in their Crown Vic close behind, to serve the search and seizure warrant. Several patrol cars cut off access to the section of streets in front of and behind the target house which was situated between two vacant lots.

Kate Broussard and two SANE nurses in an SUV from the NGO specialized in helping survivors of sex trafficking parked outside the police perimeter. Officers quietly warned curious residents in the few other houses on the street, who had seen the activity from behind their curtains, to shelter in place.

The contingent of SWAT officers split into two snake lines with John Graves on point advancing on the front, and Salvador Alvarez on point advancing on the back. Only a few minutes elapsed from the time the battering ram hit the front door, the flash-bang grenades tossed in, to subduing the suspects.

While SWAT officers cuffed three men and two women found on the first floor, Enos and Thompson, both with their Beretta M9s at a modified low-ready position advanced up the stairs behind Graves and another SWAT officer.

The two rooms on the split-level upper landing appeared to be occupied by the missing children. Enos counted four. There should have been five. The stakeout team in the house across the street had reported five of the girls in the photos they had been provided had been returned to the house the night before by their captors and none had left before the SWAT team arrived. Kiryla Ivanova, one of the Belarusian girls, was not there.

While the four girls were quickly removed from the rooms, Enos and Graves took the tiny closet in one room and Thompson and the other officer hovered outside the closet in the other room. When Graves opened the door, Enos pointed his weapon into the closet and found an unidentified man holding onto Kiryla as if protecting her. He looked frightened. He put his body in front of her, soundlessly, and reached out with his hands, pleading.

Thompson and the other officer came back into the room.

"Strate, we got nothing…" He had stopped short and lowered his Berreta when he saw the unfolding scene.

The man was signing letters, 'd.o.n.t-h.u.r.t.-h.e.r.'

Enos signed back rapidly, 'i.t.s.-o.k.-w.e.-a.r.e.-h.e.r.e.-t.o.-h.e.l.p.'

_**Wednesday, October 29, 1997 – Los Angeles, California– 10:03 a.m.** _

The emergency room at Cedars-Sinai was busy every day of the week, but a pileup on the 101 had left Thompson waiting for treatment for his broken arm, and Enos waiting impatiently, for at least an hour already.

Enos walked into the corridor to see if he could find someone to look at Thompson's arm and ran afoul of a nurse who herded him unceremoniously back inside receiving. "Detective Strate, you have to stay here. You've been in an accident."

"Yes, ma'am, I know that. Nothin' wrong with my memory," he said, remembering all too well what had landed them in the emergency room.

While Kate and the NGO nurses accompanied the children to processing, Enos and Thompson, in their car, left the scene behind the patrol cars taking the suspects to booking. The patrol cars made it through the light, but Thompson had to stop. When the light turned green, they had nearly made it through the intersection, headed for Santa Monica Boulevard, when Thompson floored the accelerator and yelled, "Brace, brace!"

In the next half-second, they felt the impact on Thompson's side to the back-passenger door which sent the car into a spin. Thompson had tried to correct and avoid oncoming traffic at the same time. The car was slammed into the curb and then into a parked vehicle.

"When are you gettin' some help for my partner?" Enos continued, impatiently.

Thompson, with a broken left arm, had pulled Enos, dazed from hitting his head before the airbags deployed, out of the car when he smelled the gas leaking from the tank and seconds before a spark ignited the gushing fuel, setting the car on fire. By then, the news vans, who had caught wind of the raid and were following the police cars to the station, had caught the accident on video.

"There's somebody from orthopedic on the way down for Detective Thompson. His pain meds are probably kicking in about now and should be good for another hour or so," she said forcing Enos to sit in the chair next to Thompson's ER gurney. "I'm sure we'll be freed up by then and you know I can't let you leave until you get some more tests and a doctor releases you. LAPD regs – _we_ all know them and so should you."

"X-rays said there's nothin' wrong with my head either."

Thompson, who was feeling no pain at the moment, said, "His head's too thick to cause any real damage."

Enos leaned back in the chair next to Thompson's bed and wiped the exasperation off his face.

"So I've been told. Can you hold on another hour?"

"Yep, long as the meds hold out, no problem." When the nurse left, Thompson asked, "Have they told you how the other driver's doing?"

"Nurse wouldn't tell me much, just said he's in surgery. I do know his wife and kids are up in the waitin' room." Enos hit his forehead with his hand. "Holy ding-dang!"

Alarmed, Thompson asked, "What? Owww."

"I didn't call Soonie. There were reporters and news trucks everywhere."

Enos grabbed Thompson's mobile phone from the side table and dialed Soonie's number. While he heard the ringing in his ear, he also heard a ringing on the other side of the curtained ER stall to which he and Thompson had been relegated. He pulled back the curtain to find Soonie standing there, arms crossed, and a ringing phone in her right hand.

Her hair was pulled back, away from her face, into a high ponytail swirled into a neat bun, carnelian teardrops dangling from her earlobes and a string of peach-colored freshwater pearls circled her neck. She was dressed in an ivory calf-length pencil skirt, matching heels and a tailored scoop-neck light coral top. Thompson was stunned. He had noticed she was pretty that night at the Bloody Bucket. She was beautiful, despite the fact, or maybe because of it, she was definitely _not_ in a good mood.

' _Whatever Strate lacked in sophistication,'_ Thompson thought, _'he more than made up for in whatever the hell it was he had that attracted strong, capable women.'_

De Pina, he understood. Captain Mallory had spent an hour relating their history to him. But Kay? And Elektra (who he'd discovered had an IQ just under the Mensa requirements), and Kate Broussard (he was still trying to figure that one out)? And those were the ones he knew about.

"Hello, Detective Thompson. I understand I have you to thank for saving Enos's life?"

"Yes ma'am," he said, in his best Strate impression and with a goofy pain-meds induced smile.

As much as he was enjoying the discomfort on Strate's face, Thompson was glad when a doctor arrived and he was moved to an exam room. While they were wheeling his gurney away, all he heard was angry Korean and almost felt sorry for Strate. Almost being the operative word.

Soonie was still pacing quietly, albeit emphatically, spouting in her native language at Enos when Inez and Captain Mallory came into the ER.

Enos only understood a little of what she was saying - a word here, a word there. He hadn't _needed_ to understand everything Soonie was saying, only how she was saying it. He'd heard her speak Korean on the phone with her Aunt Soon-hee, or when she was upset with a news story on TV, or when she was playfully chastising him for sneaking food out of the pot before she could put it onto the plates. Never in anger at _him_.

Mallory said, "We can wait outside…"

"Captain Mallory, this is Kay Mun," Enos said, hoping they would not leave him to more tongue lashing. His head was throbbing, and not from the bump on his noggin.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Mun. Wish it was under different circumstances. I'm sorry to interrupt, but we do need to speak to Detective Strate. It won't take long."

Not wishing to embarrass Enos in front of his Captain, Soonie said, "It is fine, Captain. I would not want to interfere with police business. I must return to the office anyway." She turned her attention back to Enos. "We will finish this tonight."

She said her goodbyes to Inez and Captain Mallory and left the ER.

Inez bristled at the proprietary way Kay had said _'we will finish this tonight'_ and watched her disappear into the corridor.

_**Wednesday, October 29, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – 10:17 p.m.** _

It was late when Enos was able to get to Soonie's apartment. He sat in his truck outside the complex mulling over whether or not he should knock on her door. Considering how mad she was he hadn't called her, he half expected her not to answer. She had known about the raid. It was having to hear about the accident and the resulting police-car-in-flames played up on the news that had angered her.

He keyed in the code on the entrance door and took the elevator to the fourth floor. Soonie was awake. He could hear her playing. He closed his eyes and leaned into the door, listening to the sound of her violin as she played a piece he hadn’t heard before.

While the Schindler's theme had been the saddest music he had ever heard, this was the most beautiful. It reminded him of the way she smiled, the way she moved, the taste of her, and how she felt in his arms - as if everything about her had been set to music.

Soonie answered the door in a jade, floor-length linen shift, and the same pearl necklace she had been wearing when she arrived in the ER. Her silky black-brown hair flowed down her back like a waterfall with tiny red highlights shimmering in the low light of the apartment.

He blurted out, "I'm sorry I didn't call you, there was just so much going on...I…"

Before he could finish the sentence, she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – 3:08 a.m.** _

He tried to hang on to the last two days but felt himself losing the thread...and then they were...gone.

Inez returned from the kitchen with a bag of frozen corn. "Peas would work better, but this is all I could find in the freezer."

Reaching out to pull his hands away from his face so she could apply them to his right eye, she saw a steady stream of blood coming from his nose and collecting around the black button studs on his dress shirt. "Holy hell, E!"

With his head back, the blood was now streaming over his lips and into his mouth. He didn't seem to have noticed. Gently coaxing his head back to rest on the back of the couch and shaking her head disapprovingly, she gingerly laid the frozen veggie bag across his nose and right eye and placed his hand on the bag.

"Now, hold that in place and don't move," she demanded. Once she was sure he was going to cooperate, she hurried back into the kitchen to get a clean dishtowel out of the dryer and the first aid kit from the pantry.

Enos did as he was told without protest. He was too out of it to do anything else. When she returned, he had not moved, his hand still on the bag of corn.

"What the hell happened?" she asked while removing the three top studs from the buttonholes on his shirt, the collar of which was now soaked with his blood.

Enos's hand fell off the bag and slumped down to his side, the bag falling after it. The blood had stemmed slightly. However, the swelling around his eye and nose seemed to be blackening while she watched.

"Too bright…" he mumbled and tried to sit up.

"E, you have to stop moving around." She picked up the bag and tried to replace it. He kept trying to shove her hand away.

"Have to find…"

"You don't have to do anything but stay right there while I get my phone to call 9-1-1. You may have a concussion."

She gave up trying to apply the frozen bag.

"There's nothin'…need to find Soo…"

"Dammit, E! Please, stop moving and stop talking," she shouted at him, angry tears welling up in her eyes.

 _How the hell had he driven here?_ She climbed onto the couch and nearly straddled him, trying to keep him still, afraid to shake him or pat his face to keep him awake; afraid she would make it worse.

Because he was not in any shape to put up much resistance, she was able to hold him in place with her body and one hand and reach for the phone with her other. His eyes were fluttering by the time she dialed in 9-1-1.

"No, E, you can't go to sleep. Look at me. Look. At. Me. You have to stay awake."

By the time the paramedics arrived eight minutes later, Enos was bordering on unconsciousness.

"Can you tell us how this happened?" The EMT pulled off Enos's tux jacket and started to pull his ID from the pocket.

"He's Detective Strate. I'm Detective De Pina. Both LAPD."

Inez reached down to Enos's right leg and removed the pistol from his ankle holster to check if it had been fired. "And, I don't know how _this_ happened. He showed up at my door dazed and with a black eye and then ten minutes later he's bleeding from the nose and acting like he's been concussed. I can tell you he hit his head in a car crash two days ago. Cedars didn't find any sign of concussion and released him. _This_ is not from the accident. _This_ is new. Had to be within the last eleven hours because he was fine when he left the station at four."

Before getting behind the wheel of E's truck, Inez inspected the exterior for any signs of damage and found none, then followed the ambulance to Cedars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As there is no mutual intelligibility between American Sign Language and Russian Sign Language, the 'man in the closet' was using the alphabet only in ALS in order to communicate in English. Enos responded by signing back with alphabetic spelling because the full word signs in ALS would not be recognized.


	12. Part 1 - Chapter 12

**Part One - Chapter Twelve:**

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – 3:23 a.m.** _

Enos's nose had been broken, possibly a fractured cheekbone as well, and he was presenting with symptoms of concussion. It was all the paramedics would confirm after they had taken his vitals, immobilized his head on a fracture board, made sure he was stable enough to be moved, and before they loaded him, half-conscious, into the ambulance.

Following closely, Inez, breathing hard, pulled out her cell phone again and punched in the number for the on-call detective, Gordon Thompson. The light fracture to his left ulna had not been serious enough to keep him off the duty roster.

" _Detective De Pina, what's up?" was Thompson's sleepy reply._

"I need you to get to the office and find E's mobile phone."

" _Techs say it was pretty damaged in the accident, can't make or receive calls."_

"I need you to see if you can pull a number off the contact list."

" _Not sure if that's possible. Why do you need it in the wee hours of the morning?" A genuine note of concern had crept into Thompson's voice. "Has something happened to Strate?"_

"He's in the ambulance in front of me. Looks like blunt force trauma. He can't tell us anything at the moment He was with Kay Mun tonight at the Halloween function. I need you to get that phone. If you can't get anything off the phone, find her address or mobile number through 9-1-1 and get her to Cedars-Sinai."

" _Inez, you don't think…"_

"I don't know what to think. He was barely lucid. What I could get out of him was garbled but I think he was trying to say he needed to find Soonie. So, as much as we need to know what happened to E, we need to be sure nothing's happened to her. I need you to find Kay ASAP."

" _On it!"_

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – North of Los Angeles, California – somewhere on I-5** _

Sometimes, the universe can be a real bitch. How could so much have happened in the span of three days?

Forty-eight hours or so earlier, she had answered the door and found Enos there, trying to explain why he had not called her after the accident.

By the time he arrived at her apartment, being angry with him was the farthest thing from her mind. She had flung herself at him before he knew what was happening. Feeling the tears falling on his neck, he held her and tried to apologize for making her cry.

"Soonie," he'd said, in his gentle, soothing Georgia voice, "I'm so sorry. Please don't cry."

"I was only angry at you because I had to hear it on the news. I should not have yelled at you."

"If you were gonna' do it in another language, you should have bawled me out in Spanish so I could understand it. 'Cept, I don't think Thompson would have gotten as much of a charge out of it if you had." He smiled, pulling her away only slightly to see her face.

She smiled in spite of herself then disappeared as quickly. "That is not why I am upset."

"Then, what?" he asked. Her nose was red as if she had been crying for a while. "Soonie, what's wrong?"

"It is my brother," she said. "His plane disappeared on its way back from Zaire. They are pretty certain it crashed."

"Shot down?" They had talked about how much turmoil there was in the Congo.

"We do not know. I got a call from Uncle Sang-jun about an hour ago. The NGO Jae-sung's team was working with is trying to gain access to Zaire and he was with them."

"But he's not a diplomat, he's a doctor. I thought he was workin' at the clinic in Rwanda. Why would he be with...?"

She shook her head. "I only know that he was on the plane. They lost contact with the pilot sometime yesterday morning. Uncle said it could take several days to find out where it might have gone down. Or forced down…it may be the best we can hope for and he is a prisoner somewhere. But," she hesitated, "I do not think that scenario would be a good thing either."

"What about his little girl? Where is Gem?"

"With my father. You know the situation between my father and myself - I have not talked to him. Uncle told me she does not know yet." Exhaustion was evident in her breathing when she buried her head in his chest and sniffled into his shirt, "She is only four years old."

Without a word, he had guided her to the sofa and gathered her into his arms, where she felt warm and safe; like she could curl into a ball and live there for the rest of her life. She had gone to sleep there. Wednesday night and Thursday morning had left little doubt in her mind, and heart...he loved her.

However, he was a man of honor and, technically, he felt as if he was still engaged to Daisy Duke; something which would make no sense to someone else. It was part of the reason she loved him.

~~~~~*~~~~~

It was 1:30 a.m. on Saturday now and Soonie was driving her Audi north on Interstate 5, headed for her uncle's house in San Francisco, listening to an Alison Krauss CD, the one she had traded Enos for her John Williams CD. By 1:45 a.m., when Alison was halfway through _When You Say Nothin' At All_ , she used the exit at Santa Clarita and headed back south toward L.A.

The countryside was eerie with no moon and only the mile markers in the headlights for company. The Verdugos, and the future she had hoped for, were invisible in the blackness.

She had been so proud of herself for keeping it together; for being so civilized about the whole thing. What she had felt like doing was slapping him until he came to his senses and realized he was _in love_ with her, not Daisy, and no sense of loyalty or previous commitment he felt he had to Daisy would ever change that. By the time she passed Burbank, the anger at what had transpired a few hours earlier had transformed into the fear she might lose Enos to the very thing which had made her fall in love with him.

He just hadn't been able to tell Daisy about them and end it over the phone. Soonie understood. She had felt some weird affinity for Daisy if nothing else other than the fact that Enos had loved her. He was not the type of man to give his love to just anyone. From her perspective, however, what he felt for Daisy was a different kind of love. The woman was a major part of his history. They were on speaking terms again. Oddly, she credited the re-establishment of contact between them for having paved the way for hers and Enos's relationship to grow.

Enos had promised he would tell Daisy, in person, at Thanksgiving, about Soonie. That was the plan. So, why had Daisy suddenly appeared, without any warning, last night?

Soonie calmly, more calmly than she ever imagined she could, had said, "Te quiero. Llámame cuando lo hayas resuelto," and left him with the one person in the universe who could change the future she so desperately wanted. It was the reason she turned the car around.

When she reached the northeast edge of Griffith Park, she got another phone call. This time it was from Detective Gordon Thompson.

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – Cedars-Sinai** _

Inez watched over E as he lay on the emergency room gurney, waiting for imaging to collect him for a CAT scan. The doctor suspected he might have fracture damage to the right maxilla along with a broken right lateral nasal cartilage and possible damage to the lateral ethmoid bone. The CAT would do little to confirm if he had a concussion, which would require an MRI.

" _One thing at a time,"_ Inez thought, _"One thing at a time."_

She had questioned the use of sedatives when there was clear evidence he had a concussion, but the attending physician had assured her it was safe and would make him more comfortable during the diagnostics.

"It is a myth that concussed patients should not sleep," Doctor Reubens had said. "From my initial examination, the EMT report, and everything you told me of his responses before you called 9-1-1, he was both wakeful and aware, therefore clinically conscious, before we administered the sedative. That does not mean he was able to respond alertly to every stimulus. Although he may fit the criteria of clinical consciousness, if he has a concussion he'll still be disoriented and may experience some amnesia, especially of the incident which caused it. The extent will depend on the severity of the TBI. I'm sorry I can't tell you more, Detective."

Doctor Reubens had also told her whatever happened to him must have occurred within two hours before he showed up at her door.

So, E was asleep when imaging came to take him to the eighth floor. He looked peaceful. Too peaceful.

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California - LAX** _

Daisy, already in a heightened state of agitation and exhaustion, was presently fit to be tied. _How much was one person supposed to sit still for anyway?_ Standing in front of the gate desk to where she had been paged, she stared down the airport cop who was blocking her way onto the jet bridge. The people boarding the plane were trying, for the most part unsuccessfully, not to stare. Why wouldn't they stare? She felt like the criminal they probably thought she was.

"Why are you keeping me here? I'm supposed to be on that plane," Daisy said as she pointed to the Gate 62 boarding sign for Flight 3254 to Atlanta. Daisy had no compunction about challenging legal authority. She'd had a lifetime of practice.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Duke. I have to detain you until Detective Thompson arrives."

"Who is Detective Thompson and why do you have to _detain_ me?" As much as she tried to stay calm, she couldn't suppress the slow boil in her tone.

"I understand your frustration, Ms. Duke. I don't know any more than you at this point. I was asked to hold you until the detective arrives."

Exasperated, she intended to ramp up her protest by invoking Enos's name when a tall, thirty-ish man in a well-tailored suit approached and showed his badge to the uniformed officer who had stationed himself a few yards away. " _Presumably,"_ she thought, sarcastically, _"to catch me if I make a run for it?"_

"Ms. Duke," Thomson said, "I'm Detective Thompson. I work with Detective Strate. I'm going to need you to come with me."

"Where? Why?" Daisy noticed the cast on his left arm and recognized him as the detective from the newspaper photo of the Wednesday car crash.

"Because Detective Strate is in the emergency room at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center and you are the last person we know of to have seen or been with him before he was injured." Although Thompson had mellowed slightly over the past few months, little progress had been made on his empathy skills.

He had knocked the stuffing slap out of her, and she almost dropped her bag on the floor. "Injured? How? I just saw him a few hours ago."

"When exactly was that, Ms. Duke? And please try to be precise."

"Not until you tell me what's goin' on. Did he have an accident? Is he okay? Why can't he tell you himself?"

The last thought told her, if this detective was grilling her about when she last saw Enos, then he wasn't able to tell them himself, which could only mean he wasn't conscious…or worse. That's when she started to get scared.

"I don't know his condition yet. Only that he had some blunt force injury. The detective who went to the hospital with him had to turn her phone off in the trauma unit."

The words 'trauma unit' made her shudder and the color drain out of her face.

"Still waiting to hear from her," he continued. "She told me to call Ms. Mun first, and Mr.s Mun told me about you. I'll drive you to Cedars. Try to think of when you last saw Detective Strate on the way."

Still trying to stay above water in a sea of disbelief, Daisy sat in the back seat of Detective Thompson's car while he talked to dispatch on the radio.

"I think it was," she suddenly inserted over the chatter of codes she didn't understand, "I think around midnight, maybe a little after…Wait, my ticket may have…" She started to reach into her bag and remembered Enos had insisted on paying for the first class, non-stop ticket to Atlanta, so she wouldn't have the receipt. "I bought a magazine at a kiosk after he left. It was the only one open."

She dug around in her bag and pulled out a crumpled register receipt with a date stamp of 12:48 a.m. and handed it over the back seat for Detective Thompson to take.

Then, in a more focused moment, she said, "Did you check his wallet? He put the ticket receipt in his wallet."

"According to Detective De Pina, he had his badge and ID but no wallet."

"Robbery?"

"I doubt it," Thompson smirked.

Inwardly, he thought how absurd it would be for someone to try and rob Strate. He would either mop the street with them or sweet talk them into cuffing themselves. _'No,'_ he thought, _'has to be something else._ _Whatever it was, whoever it was, they took him by surprise then ran like hell, leaving his badge, ID and ankle gun.'_ That much De Pina had been able to tell him before they made her turn off her phone. What happened to the wallet was anyone's guess at this point.

"Any idea where he was going after he took you to the airport?"

He looked into the rearview mirror and saw a pained expression on her face. Her voice was subdued and hesitant when she answered.

"He was going to San Francisco."

Inez had said, _"What I could get out of him was garbled but I think he was trying to say he needed to find Soonie."_ Thompson had the feeling there was a lot more to what happened in the last fifteen hours than what, in his mind, was shaping up to be an attack on a police officer.

When they arrived at the Emergency Department entrance, a helicopter was landing on the roof helipad. Daisy, already scared out of her wits, forced herself to stay calm when they passed elevators clearly marked Trauma/Service Elevators Only.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Hospitals, especially just before daylight, are like mausoleums; unnaturally quiet and all too still. Sitting alone in the disquieting silence was not Inez's strong suit. She had just turned her mobile phone back on to contact Thompson regarding the whereabouts of Kay Mun when she caught a glimpse of Thompson in the corridor outside the windowed waiting room. Then, she saw who was with him. Inez had only seen photos, but it was definitely her, the woman who, if she'd had her in her sights six months ago…

Of all the people Inez had expected to see tonight, Daisy Duke was last on the list.

Soonie arrived a few minutes later in the company of Dylan Greer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Translation for: "Te quiero. Llámame cuando lo hayas resuelto." = "I love you. Call me when you have sorted it out."
> 
> A/N: TBI is the acronym for Traumatic Brain Injury.


	13. Part 1 - Chapter 13

**Part One - Chapter Thirteen:**

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – Cedars-Sinai** _

Thompson and Greer followed Daisy and Soonie into the waiting room. Inez asked Thompson, "Where's the sling?"

He held out his left arm revealing more of the lightweight cast. "I only needed it the first couple of days. Took it off when I got home last night. Forgot to put it back on. This thing is bad enough, the sling gets in the way."

Inez pursed her lips and, much to her own surprise acknowledged Soonie with genuine sympathy, "Kay." The woman looked totally spent.

Soonie responded, in kind, with, "Inez," then turned to Daisy. "Daisy, this is Inez De Pina, Senior Detective in Enos' unit."

Instead of extending her hand to Daisy, Inez crossed her arms and assumed a professional stance. "Ms. Duke. I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances."

"Yeah, me too," Daisy said, feeling the coolness in the detective's voice. "Where's Enos?"

"He's on the eighth floor, in diagnostics."

Soonie, trying her best to exhibit the steadfast mettle of a police officer's wife, asked, "What is his condition?"

"He has some trauma to his nose and maybe his cheekbone. And he may have a concussion. Right now, he's stable and sedated. The doctor said he would be in imaging for a little while. So you both need to settle in. Could be a long wait."

Inez motioned to Thompson and Greer with her head towards the door. "Let's talk outside." Then, she turned back to Daisy and Soonie. "I have to talk to them for a few minutes and then I'll be back in to talk to the both of you."

Inez gathered up evidence bags that had been out of sight on the seats turned away from them. There were several small plastic bags with vials, a medium-sized bag with a badge, a small pistol, and its holster, and two larger bags. Daisy's eyes followed Inez out of the waiting room, fixed on the large bag containing a white dress shirt soaked with dark red blood.

Soonie deliberately riveted her attention on two uneven tiles in the floor under the waiting room window. Had Enos's arms been anywhere close she would have crumbled into them like an over baked cookie. She was determined, however, not to let her exhaustion allow her to fall apart in front of either Daisy or Inez.

After Inez, Thompson, and Greer disappeared down the corridor, a different, armed, uniformed officer assumed a watchful position outside the waiting room door. A little calmer now, Daisy looked around the waiting room. It appeared small for a large hospital like this one. There must be activity in the trauma center around the clock.

She asked Soonie, "Are we suspects?"

"I think she is there for our protection," Soonie said.

With neither of them wanting to talk about the night before or to start something they couldn't finish, a silence, not in the least companionable, descended on the room.

~~~~~*~~~~~

In the corridor, Inez asked Thompson and Greer, "Okay, what's the story with those two?"

Based on what Kay had told him on the ride in, Greer let Thompson take the lead on this one.

"Where to start," Thompson began. "I was able to get Kay's mobile number from Strate's phone. When I called her, she had been on her way to San Francisco to her uncle's house, then changed her plans. She was headed back to L.A. I asked her to pull off on the shoulder before I told her what happened. She didn't take it well, at least, not as calmly as she seems right now."

"She's had a lot to deal with over the past couple of days. E told me yesterday her brother's plane had gone down in Central Africa. As far as I know, she hasn't heard anything about whether he's dead or alive."

"Sheesh, talk about the rain in southern California…," he said. "According to Ms. Duke, Strate was headed for San Francisco. By the way, who is she? Kay wasn't making much sense when she told me I should be trying to find Ms. Duke. Still don't have a clue." He wondered if he should be adding the pretty Ms. Duke to the growing list of 'Strate's Women.'

"Long story," Inez said, looking at Greer who likely knew exactly who Daisy Duke was. Couldn't have known E for as long as he had without knowing about 'Daisy.' "Way too long to get into here. Where did you find her?"

"At the airport, right where Strate's neighbor told me I would."

"How," Thompson asked Greer, "did you end up with Kay?"

"The air ambulance landing on the helipad earlier – it was transporting one of the victims of the accident on the I-5 on the southeast end of Griffith Park. Major pile up. One driver fell asleep at the wheel and took out three other vehicles. Rest of them were taken to County General. Traffic was snarled for several miles. Kay parked her car on the shoulder and trudged through the median to find anyone with LAPD on their uniform. When I recognized her, she told me why she needed to get to Cedars, we left her car and keys with Torres and I brought her here in my patrol car."

Inez didn't have time to explore why Kay Mun would be recognizable to Dylan Greer or vice versa, so she didn't pursue it. Greer read the question on her face.

"Firing range," he said. "Every other weekend for the last couple of months."

Thompson asked, "So how is he really?"

"Pretty banged up," Inez said. "By the time they came to get him for the CAT scan, the right side of his face was reddish-purple and the swelling had increased. Doctor Reubens assured me it looks worse than it probably is. We won't know until the CAT scan's analyzed. And then there's the possible concussion. The main concern for us right now is...he didn't do this to himself. Somebody hit him pretty hard."

Thompson said, "I don't think it was either one of them." He motioned toward the waiting room with his head. "They were both pretty shaken when I told them he was at the ER."

As much as Inez still harbored a deep, abiding animosity toward Daisy Duke, she didn't think it was a possibility either. And a small part of her, the part her who truly wanted E to be happy even if it could not be with her, was actually rooting for Kay.

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – Cedars-Sinai** _

Inez had not been out of the room for more than fifteen minutes when another detective came into the waiting room. Although they had only met twice, both times at The Bloody Bucket, Soonie recognized her as Angela Kim.

"Hello, Angela," she said.

"Hello, Kay," Angie said, almost apologetically. Then she turned to Daisy. "I'm Detective Angela Kim. I'll be assisting Detective De Pina and Detective Thompson on the initial investigation."

"Have you heard anything about Enos?" Daisy asked.

"No, Ms. Duke, and I don't expect to for a while," Angela said.

Soonie asked, seeing that Angie had brought the accouterment of crime scene investigation with her. "What do you need from us?"

"To start with, fingerprints as well as DNA and hair samples from each of you." Seeing what she recognized as a common reaction to being fingerprinted in Ms. Duke, she added, "for elimination purposes. It's standard procedure. You each had," she hesitated only a second, "physical contact with him in the last twenty-four hours."

Daisy had not meant to appear resistant. It was an automatic response acquired over years of dealing with the law-according-to-Hazzard-County. "If it will help find whoever did this to Enos, let's get started," she said, with as much sincerity as she could muster.

~~~~~*~~~~~

After Angie finished with Daisy it was Soonie's turn. While Daisy cleaned her fingertips at the sink in the corner of the waiting room, and while Detective Kim was labeling _Mun, Kyung-soon_ on several bags, she heard Angie say, "Soonie. Pretty name. According to my grandmother, it's special because it's rare these days and means "gentle or mild.'"

Soonie had not remembered Enos calling her ‘Soonie’ in front of anyone other than Inez the one time at the Parker Center and it showed in her expression.

"Oh, sorry. Enos asked me months ago if it would be okay if he called someone from Korea _Soonie_. He wanted to be sure it wouldn't be something insulting or mean something he didn't intend." She chuckled at the memory and pointed to herself. "Third gen American. I don't speak Korean, so I had to ask my grandmother."

In spite of how worried she was about him at the moment, Soonie smiled at the thought Enos knew all along what his pet name for her meant, and how rare it was.

Until now, Daisy had been glad for the break in the silent tension between her and the other woman in Enos's life, a woman she knew absolutely nothing about until about seven or eight hours ago. It seemed like every passing moment some new snippet of information surfaced which she hadn't learned from Enos's letters, her two-plus hours with Mrs. Huang or the hour she had spent with Enos in his apartment. Angie had said, _'months ago.'_

" _He didn't waste much time pinin' over me."_

It was a foolish, snappish thought, she knew...she couldn't help herself. Her brain demanded she remember what she had done to him; had been doing to him all these years. Her heart, and her ego, had taken more than a few sharp blows since she arrived in L.A.

Soonie broke through Daisy's dark thoughts with a question.

"Angela, Daisy is concerned, and I have to admit, I am becoming a little concerned myself, about why we are here. I mean in this particular waiting room, with a police guard at the door." She suspected the answer and only wanted it confirmed.

"It's a controllable environment used for several scenarios. VIPs, celebrities, fire and law enforcement officers. Provides security when it's needed and keeps families away from the prying eyes of the paparazzi. We don't want this getting out to the legitimate news media until we know more. Especially after Wednesday."

"You will not be able to keep it contained indefinitely," Soonie suggested.

"No," Angie sighed, "we won't. Dollars to doughnuts they're going to try to make a connection with the raid and the car crash. Perfect fodder for the guys on the iffy side of journalistic ethics. All we can do is try to get ahead of it."

"And is there a connection?" Soonie asked.

"Can't comment on that right now."

"And the guard?" asked Daisy.

"Maybe I should let Detective De Pina field that question. She should be back in a few minutes."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Down the hall from the waiting room, Inez was furiously trying to organize investigative notes in her head.

When Inez had checked his ankle holster, she'd had to unsnap the tab securing the pistol. Though forensics hadn't yet confirmed it, she knew it had not been fired; likely he didn’t have the chance to reach for it. His wallet was missing but not his weapon, his ID or his badge. If he, she, or they incapacitated him before he could take any action, then why not take everything? The gun was worth more on the street than the wallet. And what about the truck? Also a high value on the street or to a chop shop, it was not stolen. From her initial inspection, it had not been forcibly entered or been searched for property to steal. They were still awaiting forensics to finish with the truck.

It was one thing to be injured in the performance of your duties. All police officers and their families have to deal with the risk on a daily basis. Neither she nor E had escaped their years on the force without some serious injury. It was the unavoidable certainty that E had been ambushed, like others before and those who would follow, while off-duty which had raised the collective hackles of his brothers and sisters in blue.

This was either an assault on E because he was a police officer or it was something personal. The subject Inez intended to pursue when she went back in to talk to Ms. Mun and Ms. Duke.

And then there was the question of how E had escaped without a greater degree of injury.

Interrupting Inez's mental note-making, Thompson said, "I think Strate's neighbor knows more than she told me."

"Get her set up for an interview. Dylan," she said to Greer, "Is Torres on his way in with Ms. Mun's car?"

"I checked with him before we arrived. He was still working the scene but expected to be able to leave shortly. He should be on his way."

"When he gets here," Inez said, handing him the evidence bags, "You and Torres get these to the lab before you file any reports or go back out on patrol. Be sure Maria Flores gets the skin samples and photos of the facial damage. See if she can narrow down what the son of a bitch used to hit him. Ask her to send her preliminary to Thompson. And get the keys to Ms. Mun's car to the forensics techs working on E's truck. I want it processed as well."

After Greer took off down the hall, Thompson was going to add something else when Inez's phone rang. The caller ID displayed Ruby Baker's name.

"Yes, Ruby, what do you have for me?"

" _I finished with the preliminary processing on Detective Strate's truck. We pulled several distinct prints and among what we expected to find in the truck, there were a couple of items that don't appear to be his."_

"Like what?"

Ruby read off the inventory of items found in the glove compartment, the truck toolbox in the bed, and behind the seat which included what looked to be an expensive violin in its case and a plastic bag with peach colored freshwater pearls with the findings from a necklace which appeared to have been broken.

"Bring the violin, the pearls, and E's go-bag to me and take the rest back to the lab with you. I'll make sure the items don't get tainted before they can be dusted."

Inez held up a finger to Thompson when he reacted quizzically to 'the pearls.'

" _Will do."_

Inez said to Thompson, "I have no idea… What was it you wanted to say before I talked to Ruby?"

"Could be he ended up at your house because he was attacked somewhere close by, or at least closer than the nearest police station."

Her house was definitely not on any route to San Francisco from LAX which E would have taken. Far from it. Inez was thankful Thompson hadn't assumed something else with regard to why E had shown up at her house at three in the morning. If he did, he didn't say it.

"Get the search started...start at the airport and work your way to Baldwin Hills," she said. As he was putting his notebook away, she added, "Then, swing by and pick up Mrs. Huang. Get her statement first, then bring her here. She seems to have played a part in whatever went down at E's apartment last night. Maybe we need to get the three of them in the same room together."

"On it."

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – Cedars-Sinai** _

Angela Kim had just finished documenting the chain of custody log on what she had taken from Soonie and Daisy when Inez re-entered the room. The two other women were busy writing what they could remember of the events since each had first made any contact with Enos Strate the previous afternoon.

Inez let them finish while she asked Angela to get them all something to drink.

"Coffee, tea, something carbonated?" Angela asked.

Soonie asked for coffee, black. Daisy asked for iced tea if the vending machine had it.

"Dr. Pepper for me, Angie," Inez said. It didn't pack as much of a punch but cold caffeine was preferable to hot at the moment.

When Angela left the room, Inez said, "When Detective Kim comes back, she's going to turn on a recorder. Just want to let you know before we begin. Standard procedure."

Daisy was getting more than a little tired of being reminded about 'standard procedure.' She wondered why Kay, or Soonie, or whatever her name was, was being so conciliatory about it. _Maybe people in L.A. think this is something routine._ She felt like a fish out of water. No, that wasn't it. She felt like an alien visitor to another planet.

Her education had not sufficiently prepared her for understanding the excruciatingly laborious, at least from her point of view, inner workings of megacity law enforcement. Ph.D. or no Ph.D., back home she and Bo and Luke, not to mention Sheriff Rosco, would be out hunting down the snake in the grass.

She noticed Kay was wiping tears off her cheeks. Daisy was too furious at whoever hurt Enos to cry.

"I'm sorry. I'm afraid I made the ink run," Soonie said, softly, as she handed the legal pad over to Inez.

Inez scanned what Soonie had written and about a third of the way through it she said, "Kay, I'm sorry."

She was collecting Daisy's pad when Angela came back with the drinks, accompanied by Doctor Reubens. Inez, Soonie, and Daisy all stood, expectantly, at the same time.

"Detective De Pina," he said, "I wanted to let you know about the results of the CAT scan." He looked over at the two other women he had not met earlier.

"It's all right, Doctor. This is Kay Mun and Daisy Duke. They both have an interest in Detective Strate's condition."

"As we suspected, his lateral nasal cartilage has several fractures. We found none to the maxilla or the ethmoid," he looked at Soonie and Daisy, "that's the cheekbone and the bone beneath the nasal cavity in the upper roof of the nose. They're bruised but not broken. The nasal fractures should heal on their own over two to three weeks."

Though the news was met with a collective sigh of relief, Inez asked, "And the head trauma?"

"We're doing the MRI next. He had to be sedated again. They're waiting for it to kick in before doing the MRI. He needs to be completely still to get good imaging and the tube is a pretty tight space. Even someone who is not normally claustrophobic tends to get antsy."

"Add to that the fact he hates losing control, ever," Inez quipped, "I imagine he's been a handful."

Doctor Reubens smiled. "Well, it isn't the first time we've had him in here this week is it? I'll let you know when the MRI comes back."

"Thanks, Doc."

After the doctor left, Inez addressed Kay before she had Angela turn on the recorder.

"Your brother's plane. No hope of survivors?" Inez had read the part of her written account of the phone call Kay had received from her uncle.

Soonie took in a deep breath to stay any more tears. According to the phone call she got from her uncle while she and Enos were at the Halloween Ball, the plane had nose-dived into a ravine. The search plane had spotted five bodies, accounting for all those aboard, including her brother.

"No," was all she said.

"Do you need to contact your uncle in San Francisco?"

"I would like to call him after we finish here. I can do nothing to help Jae-sung or his daughter at the moment. The important thing is what I can do for Enos."

Daisy, who would normally have tried to comfort anyone suffering the loss of a brother, was too overloaded to offer sympathy due to the growing frustration that she was out of the loop of whatever it was everyone else seemed to be privy to.

~~~~~*~~~~~

"Can either of you think of anyone in your lives who would want to do harm to Detective Strate? Ex-husband," Inez knew they each had one, "ex-boyfriend, stalker, anyone who has seemed a little off lately, co-workers, dissatisfied clients - possibly one of the Ukrainian clients unhappy with your delving into cases of the missing girls...?" The last part was directed at Kay.

For the life of them, neither could come up with anyone in their lives who would have a reason to do harm to Enos.

Owing to the coincidence Enos had been attacked on the night she arrived in L.A., Daisy hesitated in her response only because a few of her suitors had become jealous in the past. Not because she and Enos were a couple…they were pissed because of the amount of time she spent with him. Especially Darcy.

Along with admitting to herself, she had been punishing Enos for years for being able to leave her, she also had to admit it had taken the form of constantly dangling the carrot in front of him. They had been apart so many years, she discounted any notion someone from her past or from Hazzard would have it in for Enos, or her. And L.D.? He was neither jealous nor interested enough in her anymore to go to the trouble.

Soonie's ex-husband was still in South Korea, although neither of them was interested in rekindling a relationship that existed only on paper, and she'd had no long or short term suitors in the past ten years which had lasted more than a couple of dates. As for clients of the accounting firm, she drew a blank there as well, including the Ukrainian clients who had all _seemed_ eager to help.

She had, however, provided a description of the male in his late thirties or early forties who had stopped Enos outside his apartment building when he and Soonie arrived at 9:45 p.m. on October 31.

"Did Detective Strate know the man?" Inez asked.

"Yes, but he did not identify him. Enos said he needed to talk to the man and asked me to take his keys and let myself into his apartment saying he would be up shortly."

"We'll need you to work with a sketch artist so we can get a BOLO out on him. Did anything else unusual happen this evening, either at the Halloween Ball or the airport – strangers who might seem suspicious or make you or Detective Strate uncomfortable?"

They both answered in the negative.

"Ms. Duke, you told Detective Thompson Detective Strate put the receipt for the plane ticket in his wallet. Did you notice anything else unusual or out of the ordinary in the wallet when he did that? Any reason someone might want to take it?"

Daisy fell silent for a few seconds and began fidgeting with her hands. Her nervous activity did not go unnoticed by Detective De Pina. The situation was already embarrassing enough, what she needed to say would make it more so.

"My engagement ring. The one he gave me," she hesitated again, bent her head and closed her eyes, "when he proposed. I gave it back to him at the airport and he put it in his wallet." Her hand went automatically to the now-empty chain around her neck.

"Do you have any idea of the value of the ring, Ms. Duke?" Inez asked, trying to keep any hard feelings toward Daisy out of her voice.

"Other than to me," Daisy said, opening her eyes, "No."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Inez was as relieved to be done with the interview as Kay and Daisy. She had avoided asking them questions that would require a rehashing of the interpersonal relationships that had brought them all together at E's apartment, if for nothing else than respect for E's privacy. Delving too deeply would do little to further the investigation and more to fuel an already uncomfortable situation into a really messy one. She knew, at some point, she might have to ask.

About the time she decided her motives in bringing Mrs. Huang into the hospital may have been less than professional, Thompson walked in with the sweet old lady. Asking Mrs. Huang to sit while she asked Detective Thompson to meet her in the hallway.

"If you want to know everything that goes on in Echo Park," he said, "she's the woman to talk to…from what I could get out of her on the way in about what happened tonight at Strate's apartment," he rubbed the back of his neck with his uncast hand and rolled his eyes, "It would make a great script for a daytime soap but do little to point to what happened to him after he dropped Ms. Duke off at the airport. I only brought her in because you were expecting her and because she insisted."

Inez sighed. She had met Mrs. Huang several times over the past years and berated herself for letting her concern for E guide her professional judgement. "You're probably right. However, we did get a couple of things out of the interview with Kay and Ms. Duke. Get with Angela and follow up...and keep me updated."

"I heard about the CAT results. Any news on the MRI?"

"You worried about him?" she said, with a smile.

"Not at all, just don't want to have to break in a new team member to replace him, that's all."

"It's okay, Thompson, we all fall a little bit in love with him. You'll live."

She didn't give him time to lodge a dispute to that little psyche evaluation and ducked back into the waiting room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Excerpts from Police Report filed November 1, 1997, 1:59 p.m.:
> 
> Relevant points that were contained in the written chronologies and interview:  
> 1\. On October 31, 1997, Ms. Kyung-soon Mun, aka Kay, aka Soonie, and Detective Enos Strate were attending a formal charity event when Ms. Mun received a phone call from her uncle (Yoo, Sang-jun of Y & Y, Inc., currently residing in San Francisco) at 9:15 p.m. with distressing news about the demise of Ms. Mun’s half-brother in a plane crash in Central Africa. She and Det. Strate left the venue immediately thereafter with the intention of swinging by his apartment to pick up some warmer clothes than he normally keeps in his go-bag. They then intended to travel to her apartment to pick up her overnight bag and head to San Francisco by midnight Oct. 31. Ms. Mun also noted that this was a change to their original plans. Before the phone call they had planned to leave for SF at approximately 7 a.m. Saturday morning, November 1, 1997.  
> 2\. They arrived at his apartment at approximately 9:45 p.m. at which time Detective Strate was approached by a neighbor who wanted to talk to him about someone suspicious loitering in the area.  
> 3\. At request of Det. Strate, Ms. Mun proceeded to his apartment and unlocked the door using his keys. At this time she encountered Ms. Daisy Duke in the hallway at approximately 9:50 p.m.  
> 4\. On October 31, 1997, Ms. Daisy Duke, of Hazzard, GA, arrived at LAX on flight from Denver, CO, originating Raleigh-Durham, NC – see ticket in evidence - and proceeded by taxi to Detective Strate’s apt. Arrived approximately 7:30 p.m. At that time, Det. Strate was not present at his apartment. With intention of waiting for Det. Strate to return, Ms. Duke spent approximately two hours with Det. Strate’s neighbor, Mrs. Li Mei Huang until approx. 9:50 p.m. when she encountered Ms. Mun entering Det. Strate’s apartment.  
> 5\. Det. Strate arrived at his apartment 10 to 12 minutes later  
> 6\. After some discussion, Ms. Mun left Det. Strate’s apartment and Det. Strate and Ms. Duke remained. Ms. Duke and Ms. Mun declined to discuss details of the encounter at this time. Ms. Mun traveled to her apartment, picked up bag already packed and left in her car (Audi) – see forensic report – for SF. Ms. Duke stated that Det. Strate drove her to the airport at approximately 11:55 or midnight, purchased a ticket in her name, non-stop to Atlanta – see unused ticket in evidence. Ms. Duke returned an engagement ring, which he put in his wallet (missing at time of this report) and stated that the last time she saw Det. Strate was when he left the airport with the intention of driving to San Francisco.


	14. Part 1 - Chapter 14

**Part One - Chapter Fourteen:**

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – Cedars-Sinai** _

Slowly, Enos became aware that he should be aware. He fluttered his eyes open and looked around. The surroundings, through a wet, mucousy fog, took on the characteristics of a hospital room. There wasn't enough light for him to be sure. His arms and legs felt heavy. When he was able to lift his arm a little, he found a tube coming out of it leading to a bag of liquid hanging from an IV pole.

His mouth felt dry and sticky. He moved his tongue in and out with a smacking sound to wipe off the stickiness. "Can I have some water?" he said, to no one in particular.

Thompson put down the receiver of the phone beside the bed, poured water into a peach-colored plastic cup and held the straw to his mouth. He took a few sips to swallow the goo which had collected on his tongue and inside his cheeks, then sucked thirstily on the straw to get more.

"Easy, Strate. The nurse said sips, not gulps. De Pina, will have me for lunch if you collapse or pass out from drinking too fast."

"Who stuck me like a hog at a Sunday roast?" he asked, as he held his arm out, twisting it back and forth as if it wasn't his.

"Don't look at me. It's just fluids. Nurse'll be here in a sec. You want to complain to somebody, complain to her. By the way…must have been some dream you were having. I've seen you with some sappy grins on your face but that was the sappiest."

Enos's vision was more in focus now, at least in the eye he could fully open. He wondered why he couldn't open the other eye. His face felt weird and his nose hurt. He made a move to touch it until Thompson caught his arm.

"Wait until the nurse gets here." Thompson hoped it would be soon.

Enos looked around the room again and then back at Thompson and took in the cast on his arm. "Why're we in a hospital? Were we in an accident?"

"Yep. Three days ago." Thompson saw the confusion on his face. The doctor said the concussion might cause some disorientation. "Maybe you should wait for the nurse before we get into why you're here."

A few seconds later, as if on cue, the nurse came into the room followed immediately by Inez and Doctor Reubens.

While the nurse checked the machine monitoring his vitals, Inez stood beside the bed. "You had us worried," she said.

"Didn't mean to. Thompson said we were in an accident."

Thompson looked at Inez and shook his head.

"E," Inez asked before Doctor Reubens could object, "What's the last thing you remember?"

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Hazzard, Georgia** _

The weather outside was airish and Jesse Duke was tidying up in the kitchen. The lunch plate only had crumbs leftover from the cornbread he'd made and the bowl of soup beans was empty. He'd only eaten a few bites of each. The rest of it went into a dinged-up aluminum pot for Sarah Bunch's dog that'd lately been in the habit of comin' round of an afternoon to get the leavins off Jesse's plate. The flop-eared hound was the beneficiary of nearly the whole of his lunch today, mainly 'cause of Daisy's phone call.

He'd been wonderin' how long it'd take her to git it into her head to go to Los Angeles. She'd been workin' up to it the past few months, ever since she started wearin' Enos’s ring around her neck. She'd sounded weary worn on the phone. He didn't know what she'd hoped for when she got on that plane and he had the sinkin' feelin' things might not be goin' the way she'd visioned.

" _I don't know how long I'll be here, Uncle Jesse."_

That was pretty much the gist of the conversation.

Daisy had been a grown woman for a spell. As much as he wanted her to be happy, the time had passed for him to be givin' her advice she hadn't asked for. And she hadn't asked. He knew in his heart Enos would never hurt her if he could help it. Jesse had done a lotta' livin' and knew, no matter how old you git, matters of the heart don't get no easier.

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – Cedars-Sinai** _

Soonie had loaned her phone to Daisy to make the phone call to Uncle Jesse. When she returned it, Daisy asked, "Do you work with Enos?"

It was an odd question that wrinkled Soonie's forehead.

"I mean, are you working on a case together?"

' _An odder question,'_ Soonie thought. Before she had time to think any more about it, the waiting room became more populated when Inez entered with Mrs. Huang.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Inez asked Soonie and Daisy to sit, settling Mrs. Huang in the chair between them and then planted herself in a chair opposite all three.

Leaning in toward them, her elbows propped on her knees and her fingers entwined under her chin, she explained the results of the MRI and Enos's memory of the last seventy-two hours was fractured.

Almost simultaneously, Soonie and Daisy asked, "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Even mild concussions often have residual effects: headache, cognitive issues, sensitivity to noise, or light. Doctor Reubens says every patient is different. In E's case, he already received a jolt to his brain Wednesday morning. He wasn't concussed. This second incident has probably been exacerbated by the first, especially happening within three days of each other."

Before Daisy could ask anything, Soonie asked, "Is he in pain?"

"Some. They're giving him acetaminophen for the headache and the face pain. They can't give him anything else right now because it could increase the risk of bleeding."

"When can I see him?" Daisy asked.

Inez took a breath and let it out slowly. "When he's had a chance to fully regain his grasp on the situation and we have been able to ask him some questions."

Soonie, again thinking about Daisy's strange question, asked, "When do you think that will be?"

"Hopefully later this afternoon. Maybe longer. And just a warning, his face is swollen, especially on the right side and there's a lot of bruising. Both his cheeks are red and purple under his eyes from the broken blood vessels and they can't splint his nose until some of the swelling goes down."

Inez let them all process the information before continuing.

"Meanwhile," she said, "we've finished processing your car and contents, so Kay, your travel case will be brought up shortly. And Ms. Duke," she indicated the rolling suitcase against the wall, "since your bag is here..."

"You make it sound like we can't leave," Daisy said, remembering the airport. "I mean, I'm not leaving until I know Enos is okay. It sounds like we're being 'detained.'"

"You're not being detained. At least not in the way you think. The guard outside is for our peace of mind. Detective Thompson is with Detective Strate now and when there is not one of us with him, he will have a uniform outside his door as well." Inez took another deep breath. "Feel free to go anywhere in this section of the hospital. It's not a good idea to venture out right now. Until we know a little more, we don't want this getting blown out of proportion or put either of you at risk. Or at the mercy of a ravenous media. And it may be tomorrow before E's ready to," she hesitated, trying to find the right words, "deal with anything other than processing what put him in the hospital."

Again, she let the information sink in.

"There's a bathroom with a shower across the corridor and family services will be by later to provide you with information you need about meals and that sort of thing. If you need anything from home," she said to Soonie, "Let the FS rep know and we'll try to get it for you. Ms. Duke, if you need anything you didn't bring with you…"

"I can't think of anything," Daisy said, thinking suddenly that Inez, though her tone of voice had not been harsh, didn't seem anything like Enos had described her in his letters. _He had described_ Inez as a kind, caring woman. This Detective De Pina was standoffish and, although she had easily referred to Kay by her first name, seemed to be going out of her way to avoid using hers.

"Mrs. Huang, do you need anything?" Inez asked.

"No, I will be fine for a while."

Inez turned at the sound of soft tapping on the waiting room door and found Angela Kim motioning for her to come into the corridor.

Less than a minute later, Inez asked Kay to come into the corridor and the two of them disappeared into a room labeled 'Family Meeting Room.'

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – Cedars-Sinai** _

Soonie watched as Inez, her hands still gloved, walked out of the tiny room with evidence bags containing her violin and her pearl necklace. She had been grateful Inez had asked about them privately and not in front of Daisy or Mrs. Huang.

"I assume the violin was in the truck because you used it to play at the Halloween Ball last night," Inez had said.

Soonie nodded.

"And I think this," she held out the baggie of pearls, "is, or was, the necklace you were wearing when Captain Mallory and I walked in on you and E in the ER Wednesday morning."

"They are mine."

"Can you tell me when they were broken?"

"Thursday morning."

"And why did E have them in the glove compartment of his truck?"

"He wanted to have them restrung for me."

Both women were sending silent, knowing signals only other women can understand. Enos had gone to work on Thursday morning in the same clothes he had been wearing when he left the office on Wednesday night.

Inez had not asked any more questions about the pearls. She had only said, "They have to be processed and cataloged along with everything else found in his truck. Once we confirm they have no relevance to why he was attacked, you'll be able to get them back. The same goes for the violin. I do, however, need to know the value of both items."

"This instrument," Soonie pointed to the bag with the violin, "between $8,000 and $10,000 - US currency. I did not take my concert instrument Friday night. The pearls were my stepmother's and probably have more sentimental than monetary value. I do not know if they were ever appraised."

' _At the moment_ ,' she thought, ' _it would be difficult, perhaps impossible, to ask her father.'_ He had not returned any of her calls since Wednesday. Her father’s indifference to her, as much as her concern for her brother, had fueled her tears.

' _Inez had said before that Enos's memory of the last seventy-two hours was fractured. How much of Thursday morning did he remember? Did he remember it at all?'_

When Soonie returned to the waiting room, Daisy was rolling her bag into the bathroom across the hall. When she sat next to Mrs. Huang, the color drained from her cheeks. Instinctively, the petite feather of a woman put her warm hand on Soonie's and held it there without saying a word.

~~~~~*~~~~~

It was already mid-afternoon on Saturday and Daisy had been in the same clothes since Friday morning when she had boarded the plane at Raleigh-Durham. The situation, into which she had walked headlong, struck her once again as she looked around at the clinical design of the bathroom. It was cold, both literally and figuratively. The red emergency pull-cord next to the toilet screamed hospital. If she didn't need a hot shower so badly...

~~~~~*~~~~~

After relinquishing custody of the evidence bags to Ruby Baker, Inez went to Enos' room to collect Thompson and found Enos had fallen back to sleep. Doctor Reubens told them he needed rest to heal. She hoped it included healing his memory as well.

"Did he say anything else before he dropped off?" she asked.

"Not much," Thompson replied. "He started humming again."

"Humming?"

"He was humming something I couldn't make out when he first woke up and then again before he went back to sleep. Sounded like...Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star." He shook his head. If he lived to be a hundred, he'd never understand what made Strate tick.

"Angie's going to be here in case he wakes up and can give us something to go on," Inez said. "We need to get to the office and see where we are on this."

"Team's all in and ready to brief," he said, walking out of the room next to her. "Captain Mallory's on his way in from San Diego and I asked Greer and Torres to come in as well. The team's mapped a grid for all the logical routes Strate might have taken and is about a third of the way through the broad search, working their way from the airport to your house. If we don't come up with anything on those, they'll start filling in the gaps of side streets, alleyways, warehouses, doghouses, henhouses, outhouses…"

"I get the picture. Been saving that one for a while, have you?" Inez looked at him as if he had grown a third arm.

"Yep. Anyway, public relations is handling whatever is out there regarding media attention. Burroughs says it's pretty light so far. Hopefully, it's a heavy news day and we'll get lost in the fray."

"You know, Thompson, I'd have bet against it, but you might make a halfway decent detective after all," she said, and again, gave him no option for comeback. Not that he had one.


	15. Part 1 - Chapter 15

**Part One - Chapter Fifteen:**

**_Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, CA – 5:28 p.m._ **

The few panes of the window in the warehouse allowed only a small stream of light to squeeze through into the warehouse. The second floor was lined with cubicles occasionally lit here and there with tiny lamplight. Behind these makeshift boudoirs, the activity was something for which the participants paid, or were paid, by the hour and would not want to be advertised. Incense burned in every cubicle to mask the smell of sweat, stale water, and damp lumber.

Behind the closed doors of what had once been an office, the screams of a man begging for his life could not be heard at the other end of the abandoned building.

Large, noisy fans took care of that.

"I told you to finish that hick bastard!" said a male voice with a high pitched tone and spit spewing out with each 's' before another thwack that silenced the screams while the large, noisy fans returned to performing their primary function.


	16. Part 1 - Chapter 16

**Part One - Chapter Sixteen:**

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

When Inez and Thompson got to the office, Angela Kim was pouring over a map with Mike Radakovich, highlighting the areas already searched by grids. Cam Morales and Raffi Espinosa were on their phones and Gail Ivers was working on background checks Thompson had requested.

Captain Mallory came out of his office when he spotted them, a crisply folded white shirt tucked under his arm. He was still wearing the Hawaiian shirt he'd donned for the family weekend at the beach bungalow. No one took any notice. Other than Angela, who had been on duty this morning when she got the call from Inez, everyone else was dressed in _'left whatever they were doing on their Saturday off'_ casual.

"Okay, what do we know so far?" Mallory asked, hoisting himself onto an empty corner of Thompson's desk. "Kim?"

"Starting at LAX, Uniforms have questioned every store and gas station owner on either side of Century Boulevard going east and then north on La Cienega parallel to the 405 and then they'll work past where the 405 veers northwest until it turns toward Baldwin Hills. No positive results so far. We're due for another report in about fifteen."

Momentarily distracted by Cam leaving the briefing to take a phone call at her desk, Inez asked, "Anything on the sketch from Kay's description of the man in the shadows at E's apartment?"

"So far, no one from the apartment building or the surrounding businesses has been able to ID the guy," Mike said. "Got no hits from the other departments we sent it to. Might take 'til Monday to get anything back on it."

"What about the ME, we have any results from Flores?"

Raffi shook his head. "I'll check in with her when we finish here."

Mallory said, "That's a lot of what we don't know. What do we think we know? Theories?"

Raffi shuffled through the papers on his desk and unearthed a legal pad. "Conjecture mostly, possibilities that would apply to most of us. The usual. Robbery, random for no reason, crazies, junkies. Recent cases that stand out are the stabbing of Karima Al-Fasi and the trafficking raid. The man's made more than a few pimps pissed off enough at him to warrant some attention so I would add the likelihood to complete the trifecta."

"I'm leaning on the side of the traffickers, myself," said Inez. "And that means organized crime...He may still be a target, as well as Thompson."

Thompson didn't offer up any disagreement. He and Inez had discussed it on the way from the hospital. Though it might fuel the media machine's conspiracy theory factories, it was the most logical motive. The only crimp in the theory was that E had managed to walk away not only alive but with comparatively minimal damage. If it was a cartel or a Russian mob hit, they'd likely be planning Strate's funeral. It didn't add up – unless it was personal. And the ramifications it portended could not be ignored.

Cam returned to the group. "We found the crime scene."

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – Cedars-Sinai** _

The sun had set by 5:00 p.m. and the last sliver of light had faded by 5:15 p.m.

On the streets of Los Angeles, traffic was still at the ever amusingly termed 'rush hour' in a slow-moving cacophony of horn-honking, police sirens, ambulances, and pedestrian chatter. Tour buses passed from one sight-to-see to another on Beverly Boulevard.

None of it could be heard in the hospital room at Cedars-Sinai, situated unobtrusively away from normal hospital traffic, where Detective Enos Strate was sleeping. Under their lids, his eyes were nearly still, his breathing and pulse slow and steady. He was not dreaming.

Down the hall, the small waiting room suite had been equally as quiet all afternoon. Soonie and Daisy had been waiting there, in limbo, with the pachyderm which had arrived with them eight hours earlier. Mrs. Huang had been there the last three and a half hours, keeping it from reaching unmanageable proportions.

While both Soonie and Daisy had alternately paced the room, perused magazines without reading them, and repeated both activities several times, Mrs. Huang had sat there – silently, patiently - steadfast. She had only left her chair a few times to use the bathroom across the corridor. She left only when Angela Kim came in to check if they needed anything. She had done the same when the family services representative was in the room. For an old lady, she had stamina.

Perhaps it was living so close to the 38th Parallel most of her life which caused Soonie to imagine Mrs. Huang was maintaining a demilitarized zone between her and Daisy. And she silently blessed her for it.

It was getting late in the day and likely time for a woman her age not to be sitting in a hospital waiting room. Afraid of being left alone with Daisy, and the elephant, she did not want Mrs. Huang to leave. She was afraid if they were left alone for any length of time, she would not be able to say what she meant. Or she would say something she did not mean or would hurt Enos. Or say too much and alienate him.

Daisy seemed demonstrative and forthright. Soonie was not. At least, not to the extent she thought she would be a match for Daisy, and definitely not today. After the emotional roller coaster ride life had sent her on over the last three and a half days, she was drained. Her confidence was shaky. As much as she had promised herself Daisy _would have to fight to get him back_ , she was terrified that in her present state, she would end up only being a paper tiger.

_Was it something Mrs. Huang had picked up on?_

Buried so deep for most of her life under layers of archaic tradition, she had held onto her self-confidence only by leaving the country of her birth. It had taken more courage than she had imagined she possessed at the time. When she had gone back to Seoul for Jae-Sung's wedding to such a foul, wretched woman, her father had avoided her. He was the patriarch of the family in a patriarchal culture. It was the traditional way. In the last years before the twenty-first century began, it was still a widely accepted way.

If not for the encouragement of her modern and forward-thinking Uncle Sang-jun, she might not have been able to file for divorce from an arranged marriage to a man she could never love and walk away from the father who had shunned her since. And she had had to leave behind the younger, half-brother she loved dearly. Jae-sung had been her father's pride, his life, and his legacy. Now he was gone.

As much as she loved her native country, she had vowed not to return.

"Mrs. Huang," she said, "you must be tired. Would you like someone to take you home?" It was not Mrs. Huang's fault they were in this situation.

"Thank you, young one. I am alright for the moment. I will stay for a while if it is permitted."

"Of course," Soonie said. “Perhaps you would be more comfortable in one of those chairs." She pointed to the recliners on the other side of the room.

"Perhaps you are right," she admitted and rose with little effort to make her way quietly to the recliner.

Soonie suddenly realized Mrs. Huang had not mentioned Daniel once since she had been there.

~~~~~*~~~~~

While Soonie had been contemplating what kind of colossal disaster might occur if she and Daisy were to be left alone together for any length of time, Daisy was working on figuring out who Kay was...to Enos.

In spite of her earlier reaction, she wasn't ready to accept a scenario that allowed for Enos to have feelings for another woman. Ten years he had waited. Make that thirty. _Had he been seeing other women all this time? Was that part of what wasn't in the letters?_

Nothing in their phone calls had suggested it. _Or was she not hearing it?_

Suddenly, she was hit with the image of a painfully forced smile and a broken-hearted wave as he walked, no _ran,_ from Hazzard - and from her - as fast as a jet plane could take him.

The 'what-if's and the 'can't-be's had been hitting her from every direction off and on for hours. Things had seemed so much clearer when she got on the plane in North Carolina yesterday morning.

_Had she driven him into the arms of another woman before she could find out if he truly was what she wanted? After danglin' the carrot in front of him all those years and assuming he would always be there, did she have the right to call anyone the 'other' woman?_

No. It didn't make sense. All the evidence suggested otherwise; the reason she had asked if they worked together…like, undercover or something. She had not been able to get back to that question since. One of the most useful skills her graduate studies had taught her was how to organize and support a hypothesis.

She wasn't ready to accept Enos having a relationship with another woman and there was credible support for her argument against it.

Mrs. Huang appeared to be acquainted with Kay. Yet, she had said nothing about her while prattling on about all things Enos and Daniel. _Maybe she was like their neighbor, Granny Bunch, lucid one minute and fruity as a nutcake the next._

Detective De Pina had asked Kay about some investigation of missing children and referenced Ukrainian clients. Then there was this isolated part of the hospital with security and De Pina telling her it was not a good idea to venture out.

And the kicker was that Enos had told her things were going on she shouldn't be involved in and it wasn't a good time for her to be there right now and she needed to get on a plane and go back to Hazzard.

There wasn't much to go on from the encounter in the hallway last night. Her memory of it was like one would interpret a dream, with the benefit of a slightly more objective viewpoint and the new information overload since.

~~~~~*~~~~~

When Mrs. Huang had heard something in the hallway, she smiled and said, "He's home a little earlier than I expected."

When she and the sweet old lady both went out into the hallway, they caught some woman in a skin-tight, eggplant-colored, strapless, evening dress (split up the side exposing her leg up to her thigh) opening the door to Enos's apartment.

"What are you doing?" Daisy demanded. She had never been one to hold back. Her first instinct was to jump into the fray, sometimes to her own detriment.

The woman was speechless and stared at them like a deer in the headlights.

Then, Mrs. Huang said, asked ever so softly, as if she knew the woman, "Where's Enos?"

"He...is downstairs. He should be up in a few minutes."

Then, after some slight hesitation, as if trying to decide what to do, the woman reached into the room and turned on the light. "Perhaps it would be better if we waited for him inside."

Daisy looked at Mrs. Huang for some guidance.

"I believe it will be alright," she told her. "Ms. Mun is known to me. You should wait for Enos inside."

Normally, Daisy would have been suspicious to the point of refusing to go inside until Enos showed up, but he had written about how sweet and kind Mrs. Huang was. Daisy had no reason not to trust her.

While the woman in the sexy purple dress held the door open, Mrs. Huang encouraged her, "It might be better for you to wait in there."

Total disbelief had robbed Daisy temporarily of her usual swagger. She walked past the woman with a skeptical glance and cautiously stepped inside. If Enos didn't show up to explain things in five minutes, she was going to swagger all over her.

The woman didn't follow her in right away. Once Daisy was inside, she closed the door until there was only a long sliver of the hallway visible and stayed outside in the hallway. She could hear low, muffled female voices, but nothing of what was being said.

Then, the woman opened the door, came into the apartment, and closed the door all the way. She seemed distracted when she asked, "If you would care to sit, I am sure he will be here soon."

After Daisy sat on the small sofa, Ms. Mun sat in a small padded chair to her right, the one with a view of the door. Daisy was struck with a sudden inability to know what to say or do next. _She should ask her who the hell she was._ It took another minute of excruciating silence before the door opened again and Enos walked in.

_Mrs. Huang was right. He did look handsome all gussied up in a tux. Make that tall, tanned, and handsome._

The woman shot up from the chair like someone had lit a firecracker under it. Daisy couldn't begin to interpret the look which passed between them. It seemed strange at the time. Still seemed strange because they looked a little too much like Boris and Natasha with him in a James Bond tuxedo and her in her purple dress.

Before Enos could say anything, the woman she now knew as Kay said, "I must be going."

She glided past Enos in her three-inch heels without looking at him and made a beeline for the open door. She was in the hallway by the time Enos turned back to Daisy and said, "Daisy, stay here," when Daisy looked as if she was going to say something.

He had said it so forcefully and authoritatively like she had heard him speak to Rosco on the phone, she sat back down on the couch and complied without protest. He rushed into the hall, closing the door behind him.

The experience had definitely knocked the Daisy slap out of her as she was left alone in his apartment, an apartment which she had never been in before, in the silence, staring in disbelief at the closed door.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Soonie was thinking of Halloween night as well. Encountering Daisy in the hallway had been the last thing she, or Enos, had expected. Enos believed Daisy didn't love him, at least, not that way, and maybe never had. In his own roundabout, sometimes awkward way, he had said as much. She couldn't get too far away from the question she couldn't ignore. _Why had Daisy shown up in L.A. without any warning?_ And now she knew Daisy had the engagement ring with her. _Was it what used to hang on the chain still around her neck?_

Last night's Halloween Ball had been a lavish, formal affair and Enos had navigated it like he had been doing it all his life. The affair had been held to raise funds for the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children, a non-profit near and dear to him. He excelled at talking people into donating because he was passionate about rescuing victims of that particular brand of evil. And now, being with him through his investigation into the death of fourteen-year-old Radmila Kozlova, it had become an important issue for her as well.

Having finished Dvorak's Symphony 9. Largo theme, the last of her three solos of the evening, she received the phone call from her uncle. She had tried to prepare herself for it. When Enos found her putting her violin in its case, tears were streaming down her face.

They had left immediately after and were in his truck when he reached over and squeezed her hand. "We were goin' to San Francisco in the mornin' anyway. Do you wanna go tonight instead? It's only a six-hour drive."

And that was how they ended up in front of his apartment around 9:45 p.m.

As soon as they had exited the truck, with the intention of going upstairs to get his jacket and a couple of other items, a man came out of the shadows. Enos had pulled her behind him until he recognized the little man. He did not call the guy by name. He handed her his keys and asked her to go upstairs to his apartment and wait for him. She had been hesitant and uneasy at first, but he assured her it was alright.

As she turned the key, Mrs. Huang's door opened, and she came face to face with Daisy Duke.

She was shaken to the core. If Mrs. Huang had not asked where Enos was, she was not sure what would have happened. It galvanized her, as much as it could, into action – anything other than the awkwardness she was afraid Enos would walk into any minute.

Her mind going in a million different directions at once, and with the assist from Mrs. Huang, she got Daisy into the apartment. She went back into the hallway where Mrs. Huang was waiting.

Soonie was not sure how to approach the subject, but Mrs. Huang - all-seeing, all-hearing, all-knowing - said, "She arrived at about 7:30. I had no idea you would be coming back here with him. You have never come back with him before. Not at night, I mean."

"It is not your fault," Soonie assured her, closing her eyes and opening them again. As much as she wanted to ask more, explain more, there was no time. Enos would get off the elevator any second. "I do not want him walking in without some sort of warning. I hate to ask you, but can you wait at the elevator and explain it to him?"

"I will take care of it," Mrs. Huang said, in her sweetest grandmotherly voice, as she patted Soonie's hand.

The next three or so minutes were like time suddenly stopped. She furiously considered her options and tried to decide what she would do when he walked through the door. When he did, she left as quickly as she could. The elevator had not started its ascent in the shaft when Enos was next to her.

"Soonie. I don't know what to say. I didn't have any notion she..."

He hadn’t lied to her before and she had no reason to believe he ever would. Being close to him gave her more resolve.

"I know. But I cannot stay. You...you need to talk to her alone. I cannot tell you what to say. You have to decide."

When the elevator door opened, she made a move toward it and he caught her by her shoulders.

"Soonie, you can't go out there at this time of night alone. I won't let you. At least wait with Mrs. Huang until a taxi gets here."

She bent to the wisdom and followed him back into the hallway. When Mrs. Huang opened the door, Soonie turned to him, put her hand timorously on his chest, and said, in Spanish, "I am going to go on to San Francisco tonight. I love you. Call me when you have sorted it out."

Before he could stop her, she disappeared into Mrs. Huang's apartment and it was the last time she saw or talked to him.

By the time Inez arrived in the waiting room at six o'clock, the elephant had reached mammoth proportions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Dvorak's Symphony 9. Largo theme was adapted in the spiritual-like song "Goin' Home" (often mistakenly considered a folk song or traditional spiritual) by Dvorak's pupil William Arms Fisher, who wrote the lyrics in 1922 – Wikipedia


	17. Part 1 - Chapter 17

**Part One - Chapter Seventeen:**

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – Cedars-Sinai** _

Inez was dressed in jeans and a light blouse and carried a travel pillow under her arm. She intended to stay for the night. Before she reached the waiting room, she dialed Thompson's number.

" _De Pina, glad you called – was about to call you. We found Strate's wallet. It was in some debris on the side of the convenience store. Doesn't look like anything was taken. Ring's still there, cash, receipts, like Ms. Duke said."_

"Prints?"

" _None but his, even partials. This is just a wild ass guess but looks like it might have been cast off when he was hit and landed there. Possible only Strate can tell us."_

"Okay, I'll let you know if anything develops here," she said and then caught him before he could hang up, "Do you have Kate Broussard's mobile number?"

" _Yep. Think so. If not, might be in Strate's phone. Why?"_

"I tried to call her to let her know about E before the media gets wind. I've left her three messages at her apartment since this morning. She hasn't called me back. Just tried her again and still no answer."

" _If I come across it, I'll call you."_

"Thanks."

After she ended the call, Inez put her phone and pillow in her tote bag and walked into the waiting room to find Soonie and Daisy on opposite sides of the room and Mrs. Huang half asleep on one of the recliners.

"Mrs. Huang," she said, touching her arm gently so as not to startle her, "your nephew has come to take you home. He's waiting downstairs. Someone will go down with you."

"Thank you," she said. "I am a little tired. Have you come to stay?" She pointed to the pillow in the tote.

"Yes."

The deceivingly frail-looking lady, her papery skin stretched over thin bones, and accentuating the purple veins underneath, lifted herself from the chair. When she reached the door where Inez was waiting, she turned toward Soonie and Daisy.

"Nothing is permanent in this world," she said, in her soft little seventy-eight-year old voice. "Everything can be taken away from you in an instant. Cherish what you have."

Inez held the door open for her and released her into the care of an orderly.

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – Cedars-Sinai** _

Mrs. Huang's words still hung in the air of the waiting room like a neon sign. The air conditioning felt like the thermostat was set on 'freeze your butt off' and Inez had only managed to fall into light sleep when the night duty nurse woke her.

"Detective Strate is awake and alert," she said.

"What time is it?" She was wiping the sleep from her eyes and couldn't make out the hands of the wall clock clearly in the ambient light.

"A few minutes after nine."

Inez retreived the light blanket from the floor, where it had slid off her, and shuddered again from the cold. She rubbed the goosebumps off her arms and checked to see if either Daisy or Kay had been roused. It appeared they had not. Today had been a long one for them as well.

"You said he was alert," she whispered. "How alert? Enough to answer some questions?"

"I believe so. He was full of questions himself."

"Thank you. Could you tell him I'll be right in? And don't wake them yet," she said, grabbing her tote and the light sweater she had forgotten to put on and indicating the other two women in the room, "I'll let them know after I talk to him."

Although she knew they would disagree, she needed answers more than Kay and Daisy.

~~~~~*~~~~~

When Inez walked into the room, Enos was sitting up in bed eating room-temperature pudding and drinking chocolate milk. Looked like he had already finished his sandwich.

"What? They wouldn't bring you any buttermilk? I thought you had a standing order for it wherever you've been before."

"I asked em'." He tried to smile but smiling required more upper facial muscles than eating pudding and it made him grimace. "They said skim or chocolate," he said.

"You definitely look better than when you showed up at my door early this morning."

"I musta’ been a real sight, then. I got a look at my face in the mirror." He said. "At first I thought it was the accident with Thompson…doctor says I got cobblered last night but he wouldn't tell me anymore. I don't remember any of it."

"She explained you have a concussion? You know as well as I do what that means."

He nodded.

"So what _do_ you remember?"

"I kina remember you askin' me the same thing this mornin.' I think it was this mornin.' Or was it afternoon?'" He stopped to mull it over again. "Anyway, I was tryin' to think of the last thing I can recollect clear before I woke up for a little bit. What day is it again?"

"It's Saturday night at," she looked at the wall clock and noted his accent was a little more Hazzard than usual, "Nine oh eight."

"An' I been here since when?"

"About three-thirty, three forty-five this morning."

"Possum on a…," he muttered and laid his head back on the pillow. "I been thinkin' about it since the doctor left. I remember the raid and the accident and the fire. And Thompson's broken arm." He closed his eyes and spoke more slowly and deliberately. "And I remember Soonie was mad at me for not callin' her. And she was, umm, hollerin' at me in Korean." He opened his eyes again. "You ever been hollered at in Korean? S'not like English or Spanish, it's much more…like my granny when she'd catch me doin' somethin' stupid and dangerous…"

"E…" Inez said, softly.

"Huh?"

"Do you remember anything after that?"

"I'm tryin' to, Inez. Every time I think it's comin' into view, it skedaddles."

If it hadn't been so serious, Inez would have smiled. She hadn't heard him say 'skedaddle' in a long time.

"E, do you need a minute?"

"No, I'm okay. Just takin' me a bit longer to put it all together s'all," he said and took a deep, cleansing breath. Then he wished he hadn't because it made his nose hurt. "I remember workin' on paperwork about the raid and checkin' on how the girls were doin.' Did I set in on a couple three interrogations?"

"Four, but who's counting? You're doing okay. Keep going at your own pace."

He squeezed his eyes shut hard, or as hard as he could with one side of his face still red and swollen. "I got nothin' else. I can't remember anythin' after that until I woke up the first time. And, I don't remember it very well."

"That's more than ten hours ago. When I asked you this morning what you remembered, you didn't remember anything after the accident – the Wednesday accident. You're making progress. You were conscious when you got to my house, at least according to the medical definition, and you still don't' remember? Or how your face ended up…like this?"

He shook his head slowly to keep from getting dizzy. Then stopped. "I remember…did I go to Soonie's apartment?" He was speaking in his L.A. voice again.

"I don't know. _Did_ you?"

"I did. It was Wednesday night." He frowned, "I broke her mother's pearl necklace."

Inez resisted asking how. She had read the _'don't ask what you don't want to know'_ look on Kay's face when she had asked about the necklace.

"What about Thursday?" Inez asked.

"Uh-uh. What time did you say it was again?"

"Around nine-fifteen now. I need to show you a sketch of a man you were seen speaking to outside your apartment on Friday night." She pulled a copy of the sketch out of her tote and showed it to him. "Do you remember talking to him?"

E shook his head. "No…but he looks like somebody I used to…wait…he's a guy Turk and I knew. Informant. Got him out of some hot water way back. Haven't seen him in years…"

E was less Hazzard now, although starting to drift off-subject again and Inez steered him back on topic.

"Name?"

"I don't remember, but Turk would."

"Okay. We'll check with him. At least we're starting to get somewhere."

"Does Soonie know I'm here?" he asked. "Her brother. He's missing. I need to call her."

"I know, E. And you don't have to call her. She's been here all day," Inez said. She pictured Kay "trudging" through a median to find anything with an LAPD insignia.

"Can I see her?"

"I doubt I could stop her with anything less than a bullet."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Both Soonie and Daisy were awake and eager for word when Inez returned from Enos's room. No matter what Inez thought about what she had done, it wasn't easy for her to tell Daisy firstly, E did not remember her being in L.A. at all and secondly, he was asking to see Kay.

It pretty much sank Daisy's _Boris and Natasha_ undercover-at-a-fancy-ball theory. The other skill she had learned in graduate studies was how to recognize confirmation bias. She had been indulging in _that_ with reckless abandon.

It was her second wake-up call. Two in one year had to be a record. She even saw a sympathetic look on Kay's face. What was worse is she had heard the nurse say to Inez on their way out of the waiting room he had woken up calling for 'Soonie.'

That was the punch that counted.


	18. Part 1 - Chapter 18

**Part One - Chapter Eighteen:**

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – San Francisco, California Docks – 5:45 p.m.** _

Illuminated by lights from the overhead crane system, a copper brown container marked _tex TGUH 759933 0 45G1_ was loaded onto a cargo ship docked at Pier 80. Amidst shouted signals and the mechanized thrum of the cranes, the container disappeared into the mass of stacked boxes of generally the same color.


	19. Part 1 - Chapter 19

**Part One - Chapter Nineteen:**

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – Cedars-Sinai** _

After an acknowledging nod to the uniformed officer still on-duty outside Enos's door and before gingerly opening it, she slipped the scrunchy off the tail of hair at the nape of her neck and let it fall down over her shoulders.

"Soonie." He said it with such a sigh of relief, it took her breath away.

"Have you heard anything? Did they find the plane?"

"We can talk about that later," she said and moved closer to the bed. As hard as she tried, she couldn't stem the one tear duct that refused to be stopped. A stream of salty water ran down over her cheek and onto her chin. "You look," she sniffled in staccato breaths, "better than...I imagined."

"You're not gonna' yell at me again are you?"

"Of course not."

He had taken her hand and was massaging the back of it with his thumb. She wondered if he knew what it did to her.

"I'm sorry I made you worry. Seems like that's all I seem to do lately."

He rubbed a few strands of her hair between his fingers, appreciating the sleekness of it, then reached up to wipe the wet off her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned her face into his palm.

"Stop. Just…stop apologizing," she said, sniffling in deeply to make the stream stop. "I know you think you have to be responsible for everything. And strong for everyone. But you do not. I cannot help the tears. They come on their own but not because I am afraid of losing you. I am afraid of not making the most of whatever time…"

"Te quiero," he said, caressing her face in his hand. Now his face was wet too. "I love you."

_**Saturday, November 1, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – Cedars-Sinai** _

Inez had known the disappointment of missed chances and recognized it in Daisy. Not like being punched in the gut. More like becoming immaterial. The long waiting which seemed, even to Inez, like being locked out rather than being locked in was likely not making the situation any easier for her. And now they would need to find a place for her to stay.

When Kay walked back into the room, she spoke to Daisy. "I told him you were here. He wants to see you."

When Daisy rushed into the hall, Soonie gave her the room number and told her which direction to take. And then went back to the waiting room to find Inez waiting, her face a question mark.

"He was going to find out soon anyway. There was no reason to keep it from him and every reason to tell him as soon as possible."

Inez sighed in agreement and remembered what she told Kate about E being able to read guilt…

"Shit!" she said, standing up suddenly, alarming Soonie.

Inez dug her phone out of the tote and dialed the office. When Cam answered she demanded to speak to Thompson, no matter what he was doing.

_"What's up? Cam said you sounded tense," Thompson asked with an 'it's never good when you call after dark' tone.'_

"Did you find Kate's cell number?"

" _Haven't really had the time..."_

"Find it. Now! And don't wait to call me back with it. Call it and let her know what happened. Then call me back." Inez was still hoping she was wrong. She hit the wall with the palm of her hand and swore again anyway.

Darting out the door, she knew Kay was close on her heels but didn't try to stop her. When they got to E's room, she gave it a quick knock; hard enough to announce herself, yet soft enough not to awaken the two other occupants of that section of hallway.

Inez didn't wait for the niceties of comforting words or patient waiting for E to remember. She needed answers.

"E."

"Inez, what...?"

"Do you remember anything, anything at all, about your conversation with the man outside your apartment? Or why you took La Cienega instead of the 405?"

"No...I don't remember anything."

Inez already had her phone to her ear and dialed the office.

"C'mon, c'mon...answer dammit. Angie, I need you to get a unit over to 131 North Hamilton, it's off Wilshire, Apartment B. I'm leaving in a few minutes. Should be there about the same time."

As soon as Inez said the address, Enos became alarmed and agitated to the point Daisy had to restrain him. Soonie moved in to assist. He fought off their attempts and tried to pull out his IV needle.

"Kate? Why do you need to go to Kate's?"

"E," Inez said, the dread on her face would have confirmed it even if she hadn't said another word. "You were on La Cienega when you were attacked near Ladera Heights... _before_ the split. Kate's is a straight shot north on La Cienega. You weren't headed for my place. You were headed for hers."

It took a few seconds for the information to kick in. Other than Enos and Inez, only Soonie understood the significance.

"I left three messages on her answer machine and she hasn't returned any of them."

"Call her mobile." Enos was still trying to process it. The hand that Soonie was holding began to tremble and he tightened his hold on hers.

Inez dialed the numbers into her phone as quickly as he gave them to her in rapid-fire.

"No answer," she said, holding the phone away from her ear, "Just goes to voicemail."


	20. Part 1 - Chapter 20

**Part One - Chapter Twenty:**

_**Sunday, November 2, 1997 – Los Angeles, California– Cedars Sinai** _

Hours had passed since Inez left Enos, Soonie, and Daisy in the hospital room with nothing to do except waiting. The gravity of those hours eclipsed anything either Soonie or Daisy wanted or needed to know from Enos or each other. They had, in fact, forged an unspoken bond, however tenuous or temporary it might be, simply out of their mutual need to protect him with whatever means were within their power. If that was only limited to relieving any additional pressure on him. They had worked together to keep him calm while they waited.

~~~~~*~~~~~

It was after Inez had not called within twenty minutes of leaving to say it was a false alarm that he knew something was wrong. After she didn't answer her mobile phone, he knew something had happened. And the longer the wait became, the more agitated he became. It was only after the nurse disconnected the line from the wall jack and left with the phone that he settled into the fidgety quiet of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

As hopeful and optimistic as he usually tried to be, his thoughts were filled with years of experience that weighed him down with probabilities he couldn't ignore. If nothing was wrong, Inez, or Kate, would have called him immediately. If Inez had simply found her not at home and with nothing to explain it, she would have called him back within half an hour at the most. By the time the nurse took the phone, more than forty minutes had passed.

He knew she was investigating a crime scene.

_**Sunday, November 2, 1997 – Los Angeles, California, off Wilshire Boulevard** _

The Crime Scene Unit van was backed up to the entrance of 131 North Hamilton, surrounded by four other patrol units, a gray Crown Vic, and a silver F150. Yellow crime scene tape encircled the entrance, portable lighting fixtures, the vehicles, and LAPD officers, uniformed and plainclothes, entering and exiting.

The building had three apartments on the ground floor and three floors above them exclusive to commercial rental with separate access. Outside the cordoned-off section of the street, neighbors in units A and C wanted to know when they could get back into their apartments and two news vans had arrived. Being a little after midnight, there were only a few other looky-loos around to gawk at the activity. That would inevitably come by daylight along with more news vans, cameras, and reporters - the good, the bad, _and_ the ugly.

Inside Apartment B, the technicians from forensics were looking for any trace evidence: latent fingerprints, DNA, and blood spatter. Anything that could help determine the who, and the when, of what happened in that apartment that had terminated in the crime scene before them.

Gloved in light blue vinyl, Detective Gordon Thompson pressed the button to review messages on the answering machine and found five that had not been cleared - three he had expected from Inez De Pina and two left by Detective Enos Strate. Trying to find clues to point to the why, he listened to the two messages left by Strate three times, hoping to pick up on anything that might have prompted his straight-arrow, would-be partner to let one of the women in his life go to San Francisco alone, put the other one on a plane back to Georgia, and head for Kate Broussard's apartment in the middle of the night.

The first message said, _"Kate, just want to let you know I'm leavin' the airport. I should be there in about half an hour."_

The second message said, _"Kate."_ [A pause] _"Kate, are you there? Pick up if you're there. Please pick up…..."_

He didn't know Strate as well as Inez and thought he might be reading more into the tone of his voice than there actually was.

He called her over and re-played the messages. More than how E had said the words, the seven-second pause at the end of the second message confirmed it for Inez. It was the silence of sudden realization - and fear.

"Time stamp on the first message is close to the time he must have left the airport and the time stamp on the second message," Thompson said, "matches the information we got an hour ago from the employee that was on the night shift at the store when..."

"He called from the prepaid phone he bought. Must have been why he stopped," Inez said, tracing the timeline again in her head. _Would have taken him fifteen minutes or so to purchase the phone and then call Kate…_ "So. Where is the phone?"

"Uniforms searched the parking lot three times and found nothing except the wallet and the debris, which they sent to forensics. They haven't called to say they found…"

Inez didn't have to say it. Thompson put his notebook in his pocket. "I'm all over it."

_**Sunday, November 2, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – Cedars Sinai** _

She returned to the hospital and, reaching the door to E's room, she asked Officer Sanchez, "He been giving you any grief?"

"Supervising nurse took the bedside phone early on. She threatened to sedate him if he didn't settle down and stop making his blood pressure go up. Had two other nurses with her. Looked to me like she wasn't bluffing. It's been quiet as a tomb in there ever since."

Inez had guessed as much when she didn't get another phone call. "Ms. Mun and Ms. Duke still in there?" she asked, knowing the answer. She hadn't seen them in the waiting room when she passed. Officer Sanchez confirmed it with a nod and after she took a second to expel a long breath, opened the door.

"Could you give us the room, please?" she asked, avoiding eye contact with E and directing her attention to Soonie and Daisy. She might as well have looked at E directly. He could read her like a book sideways.

After they were in the room alone, she stood on the left side of the bed, just out of reach. She knew that any closer might mean the difference between E being despondent and losing it altogether.

Clearly, and with professional detachment, she gave him a blow by blow description of what they had found at Kate's apartment, everything they knew so far, and action they had already taken.

"I'm sorry, E. I wish I could have brought better news."

It was the confirmation and the guilt that, if he could have made himself remember, he might have been able help Kate, stopped anything from happening to her, or saved her from it that hit him the hardest.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Inez found the atmosphere in the waiting room to be somewhat different than the one she had left several hours earlier.

To the somber question on both their faces, Inez said, "He let the nurse give him a light sedative, enough to make him sleep for a few hours. At least until we know more. I'll tell you what I can and then we need to talk logistics."

' _E,'_ she thought, _'was a good enough cop to know that he couldn't be of any help if he collapsed.'_ He could only be released later today if he minded his P's and Q's and followed doctor's orders for the next eight hours.

Neither Soonie nor Daisy said a word and sat in pensive silence while she gave them an overview.

Arriving at Kate's apartment building, Inez met with the uniformed patrol officers who had arrived only a minute or two before. After getting no answer at the keyless entry door, and not having the code, she rang the buzzers of the other two tenants and identified herself to gain entry to the interior of the building.

There was no super or manager in residence to give them access. When several knocks and clearly identifying themselves did not provide any response, Inez cited 'reasonable grounds' for the record and instructed the officers to force the door. Once in, it was apparent there had been a struggle violent enough to have caused furniture to be knocked over, glass to be broken, and blood spatter visible on the couch where Inez had sat five months earlier.

Kate Broussard was nowhere to be found. The door had not been forced prior to their arrival. And no one in the other apartments had heard or seen a thing out of the ordinary.

Kate had disappeared and was likely injured, probably seriously.

None of them wanted to take their thoughts to a place that made her dead.

~~~~~*~~~~~

The people back home would likely not be surprised to read Enos Strate's psyche evaluations. When he decided to go back to L.A., a lot of people in Hazzard tried to talk him out of it, worried he wasn't cut out for it. Too soft-headed. Too soft-hearted. He'd thought so too, for a long time, until Turk persuaded him to try again. The only one who didn't try to talk him out of it was Sheriff Rosco.

With enough credits for three years of college courses in Criminal Justice under his belt, before he left Georgia, the soft-headed argument flew out the window. And, as it turned out, a high degree of empathy wasn't something the LAPD necessarily considered a bad thing as long as it helped, rather than hindered, him in performance of his duties. He had proven he could handle the stress. It would never be – easy.

Scenes of violent crimes, by their very existence, were distressing. No one ever gets used to it. You simply get past it to do the job. Once, he and Dylan Greer, his patrol partner at the time, had been first on a scene so gruesome that, as seasoned as they were by then, had made them both vomit up their lunch.

_**Sunday, November 2, 1997 – Los Angeles, California – Cedars-Sinai** _

Closing his eyes as tight as he could manage, he tried to close his mind to the dark thoughts. Thoughts darker than those dredged up by the saddest thing he had ever heard. Try as he might, unbidden and uncheckable, Enos's mind conjured up images of what it must have been like for Kate. The pain. The terror. She must have put up a fight.

She _would_ have put up a fight.

Still angry at the state of little Radmila's battered body, thinking of Kate's abduction made him more so. This time, he didn't push it down or try to keep it at bay. He let it in. He wanted to hang on to the anger - at whoever had killed Radmila and taken Kate. At himself for not being able to remember, at whoever had made him that way when she needed him.

He had failed her. He had failed them both.

~~~~~*~~~~~

"Turk," he said quietly.

Turk had been camped out in the room since daybreak. Elbow propped on the arm of what had to be the most uncomfortable chair in the hospital, he leaned his cheek on his fist in a spurious half-sleep. They had talked a little about the squirrely CI that Turk had identified for Inez. Enos didn't want to talk about anything else - unless it was the flint directly related to sparking his memory. He wanted to think. He needed to remember.

"Turk."

"Hmmm? What? You need the nurse?"

"No, I need some paper and a pen."

"You remember something else?"

"No. Maybe. Just wanna organize what I do remember and try to fill in the gaps."

Turk left the room and returned with a legal pad and a couple of pens and deposited them on the rolling bed tray, positioning it over Enos's lap.

"You got those faxes Inez sent over? The timelines Soonie and Daisy wrote?" Enos asked.

"Yeah," Turk said and dug them out from under the pile of papers Inez had either faxed or sent by Angie Kim. "You want a sounding board, might help?"

"Not right now. I need to think. Don't you have a task force to run?"

"It's Sunday. The team hasn't had a break in three weeks. We all needed some downtime."

"Then Shawnee must be fit to be tied you're not home with her. When you gonna marry that woman anyway?"

"What are you, my mother? Tell me why we're friends again?"

"Turk, I need some alone time. Need to think."

"Okay, I'll go get something to eat in the cafeteria and try to drag it out. Will a couple of hours be enough?"

"If I can't get rid o' you for good, guess so."

Turk grabbed Enos's go-bag from the closet and started to head out the door.

"You don't trust me?"

"Not any farther than I can throw you Buddy Roe, and you outweigh me by a few pounds."

By the time Turk returned to the room, Enos had nearly filled the pages of the legal pad with notes and questions. He handed them to Turk.

"See if any of that makes any sense."

Putting the go-bag next to the chair, Turk started reading, shaking his head every once in a while. He hadn't finished his review when Doctor Reubens arrived around 2:00 p.m.

After checking Enos's chart, he did a cursory physical check and informed them he thought _"it would be prudent for Detective Strate to stay in hospital overnight."_

"But you said last night you thought I could be released this afternoon. What changed?"

"Erring on the side of caution. With everything that has happened I don't think it's a good idea for you to go back to work. And I suspect that is exactly what you would try to do. Releasing you was with the proviso that you get plenty of rest and no duty for at least a week. The swelling has decreased. However, stress, both physical and psychological…"

Enos listened patiently as the doctor reiterated his concerns and all the reasons he should stay, then gave the doctor a good idea where he could shove his prudence.

By that time, Turk had already picked up his go-bag from the side of the chair and hefted it up on the nightstand.

"He'll go crazy if you don't let him out of here and probably take the rest of you with him. Trust me. You need to let him go."

"Thanks, Buddy Roe."

_**Sunday, November 2, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

Daisy jolted awake to find herself in a Jacuzzi tub of hot water, in the posh apartment of a woman she had met less than two days ago, while someone she thought she knew was up to his eyeballs in a web of mystery and intrigue.

And _'Who the hell is Kate!?'_

She had been told that Kate was a friend and that she worked with a non-government organization that aided in the rescue and aftermath care of missing and exploited children. Exactly what Kate Broussard was to Enos that had affected him so, she had no idea. And she wanted to understand. She wanted to be there for him. She needed to be there for him. Something she knew now she should have done long ago. Before it was too late. She wasn't sure what to expect or what was expected of her.

He had started to explain about 'Soonie' when Inez came into the room and turned the world upside down.

Kay needn't have worried about matching Daisy's swagger, not today. Daisy felt neither demonstrative nor forthright at the moment. She had been properly and thoroughly humbled to the point she had accepted Kay's invitation to stay at her apartment until Inez could find a place for her, or, until she could go back to Georgia. She might have called the invitation magnanimous but thought it was more like 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer.' Then, she thought how mean and spiteful it sounded…thoughts borne of exhaustion.

She was so tired. So bone-weary from worry about Enos she'd almost fallen asleep, nearly slipping under the hot water like a wet dishrag, in the private bath of the guest room of his girlfriend's apartment. Though in her mind, she knew she had brought this on herself by getting on a plane without calling first, it was all still more than a body could bear.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Soonie busied herself collecting anything in the apartment which would shout 'Enos was here' and putting them in her bedroom closet. Like photos on the fridge of their trip on the south end of the PCH, him in the garden of her uncle's house in San Francisco, him with the baseball team he helped to coach, and a photo of him teaching her how to aim a pistol taken by Dylan Greer. His old SWAT ball cap. The plaid shirt he wore and spilled saucy dumpling on when she had made hot pot was still hanging in the laundry room.

"Just hang on to it," he had said when she tried to return it, freshly laundered. "I'll need it next time I spill something.'

There was also a spiral notebook on the end table next to the sofa with case notes in his handwriting he had forgotten to take with him on Thursday morning. When she picked it up, the cover flipped over revealing personal notes scrawled at the end of the top page:

Call Mr. Hargrove about the property.

Hazzard for Thanksgiving.

Ask Soonie to marry me.

She rubbed her finger over the indentations in the paper the pen had made and felt a pang of guilt for being happy. Enos was devastated and there was little she could do to console him, except be there for him.

She had an advantage over Daisy, albeit unintentional…she knew about her, had known for months. Daisy had no idea Soonie existed until Friday night and she found out in a way no one should have to. It was no wonder she was resentful. The least Soonie could do was not rub her nose in it.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Daisy had finished her bath, dried the tips of her hair, and changed into jeans and a plaid button-up shirt. It was the last set of clothes she had brought with her for the three days she thought she might need to get answers – on his turf, not hers.

It was a little after three when Turk Adams called up from the street entrance of Soonie's apartment.


	21. Part 1 - Chapter 21

**Part One - Chapter Twenty One:**

_**Sunday, November 2, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

Soonie bent her head under the hot water streaming from the showerhead, both hands pressing against the tiles, unsure if she was keeping the wall upright or if it was the wall keeping her from sinking onto the floor.

Amidst thoughts of all that had happened over the past five days, she thought of four-year-old Eun-kyung. Born to one parent who had loved her, like the 'graceful gem' her brother believed she was when he named her, and to the other parent who had abandoned her when she was only three months old. Jae-sung had raised the child on his own. His leaving for the Congo while Gem was so young was, to Soonie, an unfathomable choice no matter how noble the cause. _Gem must be feeling abandoned again and so alone._

Soonie's father was still not taking her calls. Whenever she phoned, the housekeeper was profusely apologetic and asked her to understand. She understood - too well. Her father had been distant to her after the divorce. He had avoided her at Jae-sung's wedding. He had refused to speak to her at all after she became an American citizen. Yet, she continued to hope, someday the love he had for her when she was young would overcome ingrained tradition and archaic notions about family honor.

Stepping out of the shower, she heard her mobile phone ring in the bedroom. Long strands of hair dripping onto the carpet, she threw on her robe and was still tying it as she dove for the phone next to the bed.

"Hello…Hello," she said, breathless from the effort.

" _Kyung-soon," her uncle Sang-jun said on the other end._

"Uncle." There was an unmistakable tinge of disappointment in her voice.

" _Are you not well, Kyung-soon?"_

"I am as well as can be managed, Uncle. May I call you back? I am expecting a call from Enos."

" _You may. However, it is most important I speak to you as soon as possible."_

"Yes, Uncle, I will. Please forgive me."

" _There is nothing to forgive. However, you must call me as soon as you can."_

"I will, Uncle. Thank you for understanding."

Soonie hung up the phone and slumped over onto the bed, her heart thumping fast in her chest from the hot shower, the phone still in her hand. She could wait for whatever new and weighty news her uncle needed to impart.

~~~~~*~~~~~

It was Daisy who answered Turk's knock at the door, and she couldn't remember how long it had been since she'd needed to see a familiar face. They hadn't seen each other in more than eleven years.

"Hi, Daisy. Long time." As a proxy for his best friend, he pulled her into a hug. She looked like she needed one.

"Yeah, I guess that's my fault," she said, pulling away slightly so she could see his face. It was eleven years older. A mischievous gleam in his eyes confirmed he was still sowing a few wild oats. She wasn’t surprised Enos and Turk were buddies. Turk would be as 'at home' in Hazzard as he was on the streets where he grew up and proved it when he visited a month or so before Enos returned to Los Angeles, in '87. She narrowed her eyes and studied him.

Turk misinterpreted her puzzled look as her need to know how Enos was doing. "Where's Kay? I need to talk to both of you."

Still mulling something over in her mind and wondering why she hadn’t thought of it before, she pointed over her shoulder to Kay's closed bedroom door. "She took a shower. I expect she's finished by now. Should I knock on her door?"

"Not yet," he said. "Daisy, how the hell did you manage to find yourself here…at Kay's apartment, I mean. For that matter, why did you get on a plane to L.A. without calling first?"

Turk was not one to mince words or tiptoe around a subject. And, as far as she could remember, no one else had asked the question since she arrived, including Enos. Of course, their conversation had not amounted to diddly squat, except to confound her, in the hour at his apartment, or the drive to the airport, or at the airport.

"I'm beginnin' to wonder myself. Seemed like a good idea at the time," she said, palms up, pulling away from the hug. "How's Enos?"

"He's doing as well as he can be right now. I'll give you as many details as I can when Kay is ready." Turk flashed her a weak smile.

"It's okay. I understand."

"Do you?" he asked, with more than a bit of doubt hanging on the question mark.

"Let's say, I'm trying."

He thought Daisy, completely lacking guile, was as easy to read as anyone he had ever met. Shuckin' and jivin' the local Hazzard constabulary didn't count. He had met Rosco and Boss Hogg. What a pair those two were. _He never could understand Enos's deep affection for Rosco. Then, some people wouldn’t have put him and Enos together either._

~~~~~*~~~~~

Soonie took an inordinate amount of time to finish drying herself. When she heard Turk's voice through the door, she pulled a pair of capris and a sleeveless top out of the closet and dressed. She'd been putting off the inevitable of being in the same room with someone with whom she had only have one thing in common at the moment – they were both waiting for a phone call.

Turk was asking Daisy how she came to be at her apartment. Earlier in the day, Inez was explaining the logistics to them; owing to the need for both privacy and a safe environment. Daisy couldn't stay at Enos's apartment; it was still part of an active crime investigation. Inez would allow Daisy to stay with her, although it might cause more speculation about her role in the events of the past three or four days. The same would be true of any of the other detectives. It looked like a hotel might be the only solution where they could provide at least medium security. She would still be left exposed and easily accessible by media, or anyone who might want to get to Enos through the people he cared about. It could only be a temporary solution.

Soonie, although she could not have told anyone why, suggested Daisy stay at her apartment for the duration or until a more viable situation could be found. Or until Daisy could get on a plane back to Hazzard.

Kay lived in an already secure building, with coded entry and its own internal security, and would require only one unmarked police detail to be assigned. It was logical. Inez had to admit it would help to contain the situation while involving minimal LAPD resources. Suspecting Kay's motives? An occupational hazard. When Daisy accepted, Inez was as surprised as she seemed to be at herself. What her motives were in accepting the offer, Soonie could not have guessed, and she didn't delude herself it would give them a chance to bond or become friends.

After a moment's pause, with her hand on the doorknob, she entered _once more unto the breach_ , reminding herself Daisy had walked into something she neither imagined nor bargained for.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Turk didn't sugar coat what they knew so far or what they suspected. He told them about the messages on Kate's machine, the pre-paid phone, everything that might help them fill in any blanks in the events which precipitated Kate's disappearance and Enos's attack.

"We believe, at the moment, he called Kate sometime earlier in the evening in response to a message she had left on his machine before he took you to the airport," he said to Daisy. Then to Soonie, "He can't get his phone records until tomorrow morning and we have a tech working on his home phone to see if we can pull any outgoing calls before then; we're not counting our chickens. We picked up the one message from Daisy telling him she was in L.A. at," he flipped the folder open, "6:05 p.m. Friday night and one from Kate at 8:56 p.m. asking him to call her. His phone was damaged in the accident after the raid. Did he ask for your phone - or do you remember him being called to the phone while you were at the Halloween Ball?"

"No. I was playing with the ensemble or doing a solo most of the evening. I saw him talking to Mr. Walsh for about ten or fifteen minutes. Most of the time he was talking to prospective donors or volunteers. However, I am extremely focused when doing solo performances. I might have missed something."

"He remembers most, not so much in detail but bits and pieces, up until he picked you up Friday evening and that Kate wasn't at the ball because she was 'pre-committed.' And he didn't say anything to you about a phone call with Kate while you were at the ball?"

"No, nothing," Soonie said.

"And he didn't seem concerned about anything?"

"When we left, the only topic of conversation was my brother's plane crash," she paused only for a moment, "and he asked if I wanted to drive up to San Francisco then instead of waiting until Saturday morning."

"That much was in your statement," he said and pulled a photo out of the file folder he'd brought with him. "Do you recognize this man?"

"He is the man Enos was talking to outside his apartment building Friday night. He knew him."

"Enos recognized him and I identified him from the sketch made from your description. His name is Warren Underwood…we called him 'Squiggy.' Back when we knew him, he was a low-level gopher for street thugs and pimps mostly. He was a confidential informant of ours. Even Enos thought was unredeemable, and that's saying something. Neither of us has seen him in, gotta be, sixteen years. Why he approached Enos where he lives after all this time is still a mystery."

"Enos still doesn't remember," Daisy said, flatly.

"No, at least not that part. Anything on Friday close to the time he was attacked is still a blank slate. We think Squiggy," Turk tapped the face on the photo, "may have been what started setting off his alarm bells, and then it escalated from there into him making a beeline to her apartment after the second message. Still trying to locate Squiggy but the slippery little weasel's gone underground."

Soonie put her hand on his shoulder and asked, "Turk, do you want some coffee?"

"No, thanks, Kay…Daisy, I know you declined to say anything about what transpired between you and Enos after Kay left his apartment Friday night, but now, we need to know. If for nothing else, to help jump-start Enos's memory. Did he say anything to make you think he was concerned?"

Kay interrupted. "I need to call my uncle and will be in my room when you need me." She focused her attention on Turk.

So did Daisy.

"Thanks, Kay."

After Soonie pulled the door shut behind her, Daisy started relating the strange exchange between her and Enos after Kay left. Strange then, some of it starting to make some sense now. As sudden as the thought had come to her, memories of what were, at the time puzzling conversations throughout their adulthood started making some weird sense.

~~~~~*~~~~~

After Kay bolted out of the apartment like somebody set her petticoat on fire, it had been awkward. Except for the time between April and August when they didn't talk at all, she had never had a problem knowing what to say to Enos…back when she usually controlled the conversation. He had sounded fine on the phone a few days earlier, not that they had talked about anything other than the stuff memory lanes are paved with. Now, she didn't know where to start.

~~~~~*~~~~~

After Kay left and he came back into the apartment, the first thing Enos had asked her was, "When did you get here, Daisy?"

"A couple of hours ago. I left a message on your answer machine when I landed. Then I decided to come to your apartment and wait. You weren't home and I met Mrs. Huang in the hall. Enos, who is that woman you were with?"

"Possum on a gum bush, I'm glad ta' see ya, Daisy. You want somethin' to drink? You must be parched. This Los Angeles air will dry you out fast. Spent my first week or two with a bloody nose…"

He had kept on in the same flustered manner for at least another twenty minutes, rattling on about Uncle Jesse and Bo and Luke, and Mizz Tisdale. She couldn't get a word in edgewise. Or maybe it was because he seemed like the Enos Strate that left Hazzard almost eleven years ago and not the Enos Strate she had been talking to on the phone for the last couple of months. Out of the blue, she wondered which one was the real Enos and which one was the actor.

"Did I ask if ya' wanted somethin' to drink?"

"Yes, you did. I had enough tea with Mrs. Huang that my eyes are floating. Can I use your bathroom?"

"Course ya' can Daisy. It's right through there." Starting to pace, he pointed to his bedroom. That's when she remembered he hadn't sat down the whole time.

She got up from the couch shaking her head. Closing the bedroom door behind her, she leaned with her back against it and wondered, certainly not for the first time that day, if she had made the right decision to come to L.A.

She'd had no idea why she felt so nervous being in his apartment, let alone in his bedroom. After all, she'd slept in his room one night, way back when. Thoughts of who Kay was were replaced by taking in the surroundings. _Had he become a cloistered monk?_ The bedroom was sparse, except for the neatly made double bed, a nightstand, and a dresser with her picture on it. The same photo of her had been on his dresser in the boarding house the night she'd had to sleep over behind a silly 'wall of Jericho,' and the day they almost got married – the first time. There was nothing else. No pictures hanging on the wall, no other photos in the room, no personal items sitting about.

She used the facilities and washed her hands, seeing herself in the mirror for the first time since she had used the restroom at the airport. She had changed a lot since the photo on his dresser was taken.

When she finished and re-entered the living room, he was on the phone talking to someone about flight schedules and plane tickets. Things went downhill from there.

"Daisy, you have to go home."

"Why? What's wrong? Something's going on you're not telling me. What is it?"

"I can't explain right now, but you need to go," he said. It was the masterful voice she had heard earlier when he ordered her to _stay_.

He wouldn't take no for an answer. Before she knew it, they were on their way to the airport. In complete silence.

When they got out of his truck at LAX and he pulled her luggage out of the truck bed, she tried again to ask him why she had to leave.

All he said was, "Please, Daisy. Please do what I ask. I'll tell you when I can. Right now, I need you to go home."

She unlocked the chain around her neck and removed the ring. Putting it in his hand, she looked up at him with every question imaginable and undisguised hurt on her face.

"I'm so sorry, Daisy. I didn't want it to be like this. I promise I didn't. I was plannin' on comin' for Thanksgiving. We can talk about it then. There's things goin' on right now I need to take care of. Things you shouldn't be involved in. You keep the ring. I gave it to you. I don't want it back."

She closed his hand around the ring with hers and said, "Keep it. Bring it with you Thanksgiving. If you still want me to have it. Ask me then."

~~~~~*~~~~~

"It didn't register at the time," she told Turk as she finished relating the events of Friday night. "looking back...I've known him long enough to know when he's scared. And I think he was scared. I think it was the only reason I agreed to let him pay for the ticket. The only reason I agreed to go. That's it, Turk. He left the airport and the next time I saw him was in the hospital late last night," she said. She had her hands in her lap and was staring at them. "I can see now he had good reason to be scared."

~~~~~*~~~~~

When Soonie was back in the room, she asked if they would be allowed to go back to the hospital to visit.

"Here's the thing," he said, clearing his throat. "He checked himself out of Cedars earlier. I dropped him off at the office so he could help with the investigation. He'll be staying with Detective Thompson, at least until he can go back to his own apartment."

When the thought occurred to Daisy 'checked himself out' might not be the same as 'released,' she asked about it.

"Doctor thought it would be a good idea for him to stay another night. He disagreed. End of story. Once he gets something into his head," he started to say _'only a bullet will stop him,'_ saying instead, "not much will stop him. Inez and their team will keep an eye on him," he said and hesitated. "Until we know more, you may not see him for a while. He won't put either of you in harm's way." He directed his attention to Daisy. "Before I go, though, I have to tell you something…about Kate. By tomorrow, it's going to be all over the news and eventually, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually...they will unearth her past…and her association with En…"

"Turk," Soonie said, putting her hand gently on his arm. "I will tell her."

Turk turned to her, his expression asking, _'Are you sure?'_

Soonie nodded.

"Kay, can I talk to you in the hall for a sec? Sorry, Daisy." He hugged her again and started for the door.

Kay had given her the privacy she needed. Uncle Jesse would tell her it would be unbecoming of a Duke, and not how Aunt Lavinia taught her to behave, for her not to do the same. _Lordy – this was one strange week._

~~~~~*~~~~~

When he and Soonie were in the hall, Turk said, "Didn't know you knew so much about Kate...or their _therapy_ sessions, until Enos told me this afternoon."

"All the time we spend together, we have to talk about something."

"Uh huh. Shawnee and I don't talk about stuff like that."

"Perhaps you should," she said.

"Maybe," he grinned sheepishly. "Are you sure you're prepared for what's coming? I mean, he's not going to stop until he finds her, alive hopefully. If she's dead, he's going to hit a low point…" he couldn't finish the thought out loud. "The last time he hit a low point, it took six years to get my best friend back. Are you willing to deal with that possibility? Cause if you're not, walk away now. Don't wait until it'll be on top of the worst-case scenario he feels responsible for."

"I cannot guarantee I will be good at it, but, why would I leave him for the very reason I fell in love with him in the first place?"

"That's what I wanted to hear. Always knew you were a keeper. You and Daisy going to be alright here together?" he asked. "She is a nice person, and in her own way, I think she does love him."

_**Sunday, November 2, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

Amazing what a hot shower and a friendly face can do for attitude. That is until Soonie walked back into the living room to the possibly-not quite-yet ex-fiancé of the man with whom she wanted to have children standing in it.

Daisy was waiting for her. More patiently than she had expected. Clearly, she wanted answers and Soonie was not sure which ones she could give and which only Enos should provide.

Soonie thought of asking Daisy if she preferred coffee or tea. Instead, she opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bottle of soju, poured the wine into two shot sized glasses, and handed one to Daisy.

Before Daisy could put the glass to her lips, Soonie warned, "You should be careful. It can sneak up on you."

Not missing the double entendre, Daisy took a sip, licked her lips, and put the glass on the counter.

"So, Kay. What is it I need to know about Kate and Enos before it gets splashed all over the news?"


	22. Part 1 - Chapter 22

**Part One - Chapter Twenty Two:**

_**Sunday, November 2, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

After arriving at the office earlier in the afternoon, Inez pulled Enos aside while Turk was talking to Thompson about any drug-related connection there might be to the trafficking suspects arrested on Wednesday.

"You _look_ a little better, anyway."

"Not quite as scary?"

"You never look scary unless you're trying to," she smiled. "You look like you need some sleep."

"All I been doin' the last couple of days is sleepin.' When I get back to my place tonight..."

"You can't go back to your apartment. You're staying with Thompson. He's already said it was okay."

"Angie said the tech guys released it."

"They did. And you're supposed to still be in the hospital, yet here you are. Even if you don't need sleep, I do. Let's just say you're doing it for my peace of mind. You can see your primary tomorrow and then we'll see. Besides, you can't drive. Your wallet and license are still in forensics and your truck is in impound."

Defeated, he said, "But I don't wanna stay with Thompson. Can't I stay with you?"

"Now you're being whiny. Sound like Aaron when he got the flu last year."

"That bad, huh?"

She crossed her arms and gave him a look.

He'd been meaning to tell Inez how much it annoyed him when she was right and he couldn't figure out a way to make her 'not right.' He knew she _was_ right and he would comply, if for nothing else than to avoid any situation where he might be banned from the office altogether. And Inez would revert to being his Training Officer again if she thought he was being stupid about it, and it appeared she was close to that now. As a training officer, she had been one tough cookie.

So, being technically on medical leave, he was relegated to paperwork and coordinating information in order to free up the other detectives who had their own files, and now most of his, to return to come Monday morning.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Thompson lived in an apartment which might have been more up-scale than Enos's place, the reason it could be called a condo, was still as bereft of a 'lived-in' feeling. With only one bedroom, he expected to be sleeping on the couch. He refused to take anything other than OTC for pain, so he still had a whale of a headache and his nose hurt. A lot. As dragged-out weary as Enos was, with worry over finding out what happened to Kate sooner rather than later, he didn't care where he _tried_ to sleep as long as it wasn't in the hospital or away from the investigation. The only reason he agreed to stay with Thompson was to stay as close to it as he could. He was still at a loss to understand Thompson's motivation for 'volunteering.' Enos told himself it was only temporary.

"You take the bedroom. I'll take the couch," Thompson said, pulling a beer for himself and a bottle of water for Strate out of the fridge.

"I'll be fine on the couch."

"No, you'll be fine on the bed. De Pina would bludgeon me…"

"Why does everybody keep sayin' that?" Enos was edgy enough without Thompson making it worse. Unfortunately, irritability was one of the after-effects of concussion.

Wondering who else had had the balls to say it, he risked life and limb by shooting back with, "I knew your head was too hard to do any real damage, but are you really that blind?"

Enos stood up too fast and got dizzy. He felt Thompson's hand under his left arm.

"I'm okay. Don't need any coddlin.'" Enos went rigid to keep from swaying.

Thompson stepped back. "I can see that. But you should try to get some sleep. Lieutenant Adams said the doctor recommended rest as much as possible."

Enos flashed him a look which clearly broadcast, _'are you kidding?'_

"Look," said Thompson, blowing out air in frustration. "You can't do Kate any good if you collapse. Bow to the logic, Strate. Rest might help you remember."

Bowing to a logic he couldn’t dispute, he did what Thompson said and let him carry his go-bag into the bedroom, which was less sparse than the living room. Besides the bed and a dresser, there was a bookshelf filled with books which looked well-read, a worktable with model paints and brushes that looked recently used, and on the shelves above sat several completed models.

"If you say a word," Thompson warned, dropping the bag inside the door, "You'll be the one with a bruised larynx."

After Thompson left the room, Enos sat on the bed, looking up at the Starship Enterprise and the Millennium Falcon, and wondered how many other _fascinating_ things he didn't know about Thompson.

Pulling off his jacket to hang over the back of the worktable chair, Enos pulled out the baggie of pearls from his inside coat pocket and sat back on the edge of the bed. Inez had returned the pearls to him before he left the office. More than anything, except finding Kate, the pearls reminded him of how much he wanted - needed - to be with Soonie.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Wednesday night, she had fallen asleep in his arms, not for the first time. This time, though, he didn't wake her at midnight - the curfew he had set for himself. It was the way he governed himself, kept himself in check.

It might seem silly, moralistic, and likely high and mighty to L.A. folks. Why not? His title as the 'oldest virgin in Hazzard County' had reached legendary status. Only those mean of spirit used the title derisively. Most of the time he had been looked upon by the people of Hazzard sympathetically, maybe even pityingly. Heck, there were a few who admired him, although, they would not have subscribed to the philosophy themselves. He also held the title as the only honest police officer in the county. Though Aunt Judy would say _'pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before the fall,'_ he was proud to accept both titles.

All those years, Enos had been celibate by choice, not from lack of opportunity. There had been plenty of opportunities. In the eighth grade, Alice Jean Davenport, among others, had taken a shine to him. By that time he was already smitten with love for one girl. The beginnings of his virginal reputation had been largely due to the sting felt by those of the female persuasion having had their downright forward advances summarily rejected. When he was eighteen, a female cadet at the police academy hit on him more than once and she wasn't at all subtle about it. There were others, especially in L.A.

By the time he was twenty-five, he had perfected the art of avoiding sticky situations or deflecting unwanted and unsolicited advances with a carefully developed strategy of feigning ignorance or naiveté. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it backfired, and he had to flat out tell them he wasn't interested. He found jabbering away like an addle-pated magpie worked the best. They eventually got bored, or thought there was something wrong with him, and left him alone.

And his libido was alive and functioning, thank you very much; it was what made him blush like his face was on fire.

It all came down to one thing - Enos Strate had no hankering for casual, let alone recreational, sex. He wanted it all - love, marriage, sex, the whole enchilada in one package with a bow on top and he would be ding-danged if he would ever settle for less. For the longest time, he truly believed ‘the package; came in the form of Daisy Duke. Blushing became a persistent personality trait when Daisy was around. One, he loved Daisy. Two, he wanted to marry her. Sex was something he had long thought would naturally follow one and two. The two ingredients he had failed to include in the delicately constructed recipe and the neat little package he had imagined was passion and the kind of unrelenting desire that takes your breath away.

He was not bereft of passion. Enos was passionate about being a decent and honest human being. He was passionate about being a good police officer, and eventually a good detective. That passion led him away from Hazzard, and Daisy, to Los Angeles the first time when he followed his dream of being a big city policeman in 1980. He told himself, then, he was doing it to deserve Daisy and make her proud of him. He thought she held the key to unlocking his dreams.

The second time he came back to L.A., in '87, it was all for himself. Took him a long time to admit it to himself.

He wanted to be something other than the bumbling, lovable-like-a-puppy-dog deputy sheriff he had allowed himself to become in order to keep his job and stay honest back in Hazzard. He wanted to make a difference in the world. The desire for those things became a passion he couldn't satisfy in Hazzard. Not anymore.

He had found the keys to his dreams in the form of an ex-pat from South Korea who made him cry with her violin, yelled at him in Korean, made him feel like he could conquer the world, and who, at the moment, was sleeping in his arms. It caused him, lately, to push those self-imposed boundaries to the maximum limit.

Soonie had curled her knees up and rested them on his leg and her arm was around his middle. When her hair fell over her face, he gathered up the strands and placed them behind her ear as gently as he could so as not to wake her. She wore her hair down when they were alone.

She stirred in his arms and then settled her head quietly onto his chest, her hair falling completely over her face. He could feel her heart beating steadily and knew she was sleeping peacefully. It was already past one. How many nights had he wanted to stay past his self-imposed boundary between wanting her so much it made him ache and loving her so much he felt like he couldn't breathe?

Curfew and boundaries be damned. He wouldn't leave her alone tonight.

The Sandman wouldn't visit as easily for Enos though, too many things on his mind. Taking his spiral-bound notebook from his inside jacket pocket he started jotting down notes about the trafficking victims and the evidence haul he wanted to follow up. Wasn't easy one-handed. He had to rest the notebook on the arm of the couch and write while it teetered back and forth on the rounded surface.

None of the young girls rescued in the Wednesday raid spoke English and they'd had to wait for an interpreter. They were afraid, and though Kate, through the interpreter, had tried to reassure them, the interviews had still had not gleaned much information by the end of the day. Enos had interrogated the man in the closet, whose name they still didn't know, and he still refused to say, or sign, anything substantive. The ledgers had been sent to forensic accounting for translation and analysis. He had tried to pin the accountants down on a time frame but they wouldn't budge off _'when we finish, you'll be the first to know.'_

He finally started getting sleepy around three when Soonie shifted again. Fluttering her eyes open, she looked up at him and gave him a sleepy smile. "What time is it?"

"Doesn't matter. Go back to sleep."

He pressed his lips gently on her forehead, then watched her for the longest time to be sure she was sleeping peacefully again. Before closing the notebook and putting it aside on the table, he wrote three personal notes at the bottom of the first page. Things he wanted to do soon. Tomorrow, they would have to deal with her brother's plane crash.

Then, he leaned his head back on the sofa cushion and went to sleep.

When he woke, his arms were empty. Soonie was making soft noises in the kitchen and he realized it was morning. He ignored his sore back and stiff muscles. It was well worth it to have been able to hold her through the night.

"Hey," he said. "You okay?"

"Yes, I am okay. Thank you for staying…"

He kissed her and looked at his watch. "Not sure if I have time to go by my apartment to change before I go to work."

"Your jacket is wrinkled."

"Guess it is. Don't have time to worry about that either."

"Take it off. I will steam it for you while you clean up."

She helped him off with his jacket, folded it in half, and draped it over her arm.

When he came out of the bathroom, she had not only steamed the jacket, she had poured him a cup of coffee, doctored with just the right amount of cream and sugar.

"You'll call me if you hear anything about your brother?"

"I will."

"Call my desk extension. I won't get another mobile 'til Monday."

She nodded and pulled her hair out of the way, exposing the marks on her neck left by the pearls she was still wearing. The pearls looked as though they were embedded in her skin. He silently berated himself for letting her go to sleep with them on.

"Oh, Soonie. That looks painful."

"It is not. Really. I tried to take them off and the clasp is stuck in my hair. Could you unclasp it?"

He reached behind her neck to feel for the clasp, barely touching it when the pearls started dropping onto the floor. They had not been knotted between each pearl and once the ancient silk thread gave way and the first one fell, the rest cascaded onto the carpet.

"Soonie, I'm sorry."

Before she knew it, Enos was on his knees, trying to gather the small pearls. She dropped to the floor and tried to tell him it was okay; he would be late for work and not worry about it. He was focused on making sure he got every single one. "Please do not worry about them."

"But I broke you mama's pearls."

"Not the pearls, only the necklace. The necklace was old. I should not have kept them on when I got home from work. It is not your fault. They are only things. You are more important to me than things." She cupped his face in her hands. "Enos. I love you."

That was all it took. Before he could stop himself, his mouth was over hers and his hands where all over places he knew they shouldn't be.

She was offering no resistance whatsoever to help him stay in control. He could feel her body pressing into his. When he realized, almost too late, he had laid her on the carpet and was moving his hand on the outside of her leg from her knee to her thigh, it triggered his alarm and he pulled himself off her like he'd been jerked back by some intervening hand from the edge of a cliff.

Throwing himself back against the kitchen island, he swallowed hard and tried to catch his breath. Pulling his knees towards his chest, he bent his head between them, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. Then, he felt Soonie's hand on his arm.

When he looked at her, expecting to see revulsion, he saw only sweet, gentle understanding mixed with a tinge of disappointment.

"I'm sorry." His voice was hoarse, still trying to recover, not from what he had almost done but from the effort it took to stop himself. "I don't want you to think it's the only…"

"Why would I think that?"

"’Cause I wasn't sure for the first coupla' months." He cleared his throat.

"Now you are?" She squeezed her hand a little tighter on his forearm.

He nodded. "Since that first kiss. Everything got real clear."

"Enos," she whispered, "I fell in love with you the night we met and I have been trying to seduce _you_ ever since."

Enos swallowed hard again, bent his head back, and closed his eyes. There were tears streaming from the corners. After what seemed like forever, he pulled his head back down to face her.

"I want it to be right between us," he said. "Not like this. Not while you're worryin' about your brother," he closed his eyes to focus. He wanted to say the right words. "And not while I'm still engaged to Daisy."

Soonie pulled back, her body stiffened, her face disbelieving.

"She broke your engagement when she told you she wasn't ready to get married."

"I promised to wait...until she _was_ ready...until she grew up."

"So, you are going to throw away," her voice broke and she had to swallow the anger in her throat threatening to choke her, "what we could have..."

"Lord in Heaven. No. Soonie, I'm not an idiot. I can't just call her. I need to go back to Hazzard and tell her in person, face to face. I know it probably doesn't make sense but it's the only way I can make any promises _to you_."

Soonie thought about it for a moment and realized what he meant.

"Then, I suppose it is a good thing that at least one of us has a safety switch."

~~~~~*~~~~~

When Soonie had come into his hospital room, what he had said to her Thursday morning about still being committed to Daisy, what he had thought he was honor-bound to do, went right out the window. He loved her more than all the words in the English, or probably Korean, language could describe, certainly more than he knew. He hoped it would be enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 'pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before the fall,' - Proverbs 16:18


	23. Part 1 - Chapter 23

**Part One - Chapter Twenty Three:**

_**Monday, November 3, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

On Monday morning, Enos and Thompson walked into the office at 6:45 a.m. to a full bullpen. The first thing Inez said to Thompson involved getting as many of his medium or low-level files as he felt comfortable with redistributed to Angela Kim. And any higher-level cases in need of follow up over the next week needed to go to Espinosa, Morales, or Radakovich. He would be lead detective working on Kate's case - at least until they couldn't afford to dedicate his time to it anymore.

The first order of business for Enos was to call his provider and obtain his landline phone records.

"The RFI for Kate's landline and mobile phone records has already been prepared and gone to the judge," Inez had said. "That information should be available by early afternoon."

Accessing preliminaries on both his assault and the investigation into Kate's disappearance, Enos read the initial statements Soonie and Daisy had given again. As much as the weird conundrum of Daisy not only being in L.A., her staying with Soonie was weighing on him. It was a distraction from what he needed to be doing to find Kate.

The detective reports Thompson and Inez had submitted or updated, at least put the possible connection into an organized perspective. **(1/2)**

Thompson, who had not been completely ruled out as a target, had added the notes Enos made while still in the hospital on Sunday to the file. He was frustrated nothing in his thirty or so pages could either dispute or fill in gaps in the facts.

He had, however, been able to list more possible reasons why Kate would have been assaulted in her apartment _before_ he was assaulted at the convenience store.

~~~~~*~~~~~

The ME's report came in on Enos's attack around nine. Maria had not wanted to rush it. Considering the implications, she could _not_ afford to be preliminary – she had to be sure. The Cedars staff had done an excellent job of sample gathering for forensics. She checked the forensic report on the particulate residue of his skin cells from scrapings taken at the time of his admission to the ER/Trauma unit.

When she described the object she thought was used to Inez De Pina, Maria was 98% positive she was right.

"So...Something like a two by four?" Inez asked, making the same connection Maria had.

"No," Maria told her, "Exactly like a two by four. Patterning, chemical residue, particulates confirmed it. I can even tell you it was treated, how long ago and the exact mix of chemicals used."

"We need to go back to the Griffith Park victim."

"I've already ordered the samples and photos from evidence for comparison."

That's when Enos decided Daisy had to go home. Now. He made a phone call to Soonie.

_**Monday, November 3, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

After he talked to Soonie, Enos turned his attention back to the copious notes on the legal pad paying particular attention to Turk's under-linings and strikethroughs. He knew Thompson was in the process of checking on the BOLOs for both Kate and Squiggy and from what he gleaned from Thompson's end of the phone conversation, they had nothing yet.

So he put himself to work going over the inventory of Kate's apartment, looking for anything that might scream diary, journal or notebook.

The geeks had already ruled out anything obvious on her computer, including emails. Enos planned on reviewing those as well on the off chance he might find some sub-text or hidden meaning in them. Violating her privacy was the last thing he wanted to do, but it was too late for any such consideration and he was getting desperate. They were well over the first forty-eight hours. The chances of finding Kate alive were petering out with every minute.

Though the FBI had been notified and she was on their radar; unless she was transported by interstate or foreign commerce, they would not become directly involved. They had to have something more to go on than the current state of their knowledge. Lots of facts didn't add up to a big picture and the only common thread was a 'two by four' and that fact didn't apply to anything found at Kate's apartment.

When he knew Thompson was between phone calls, Enos handed him a notepad on which he had written what he had extracted from his notes. Then he took four more pills for his headache.

_Can't be random coincidence. Why coordinated assaults?_

_Kate was the primary target? Then why attack me?_

_Was I the target? Close association? Was she collateral damage?_

_Reminder to search recent cases: Al-Fasi stabbing (no love lost between me and male relatives) [crossed out] / Extortion op bust (warn Deacon?) [ crossed out] / Raid Oct 29 with SWAT – reminder: need to re-interview victims and man in closet (any identity yet?) / anything squirelly about those video store robberies?_

_Recent coordination of services with Kate/NGO i.e. raid on trafficking operation dormitory Oct 29?_

_Kate's made some enemies with her campaign against human traffickers? But not the only one outspoken on subject. CAST and new bill to congress? Note to self: Reminder to call Congressman Davenport about his support for the bill when it comes before the House._

_Working theory of team is maybe organized crime involved in my assault related to trafficking raid? But Kate's? Seems more personal..._

_ Has Kate been doing something she hasn't told me about? _

Thompson got back on the phone and started arranging interviews for in the morning with the man in the closet, still unidentified, and at least two of the trafficked teens rescued in the raid last Wednesday. Enos called for the interpreter.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Daisy sat up unsteadily in bed, rubbing her eyes, and with a pounding headache. Though Kay had cut her off after the third shot. The soju _had_ sneaked up on her. It had also helped to dull the blow that one, Enos needed therapy after he returned to L.A. in April and two, he sought it in the form of a former prostitute. She managed to get out of bed and thought she heard a phone ring, though it sounded like Kay's mobile phone and not the landline. By then, she just wanted a shower.

When she made an appearance in the kitchen around ten, Kay had a cup of black coffee, a bottle of acetaminophen, and the morning edition ready for her.

Daisy thought, _'How did this woman manage to look so good after three shots of that 'shine? Must be used to it.'_

"They have not put it all together yet, but they will, and likely by Wednesday at the latest," Kay said. "I do not think The Times will sensationalize it or twist it. The article mentions her work to raise public awareness of child exploitation and trafficking. They may still make some connections; sometimes all it takes for people to jump to conclusions. Here in L.A., the gossip magazines look for lurid filler. If they don’t find it, they invent it and will not care that Kate turned her life completely around. Or that Enos sees more in people than they can see in themselves."

Daisy had some recent up-close and personal experience with conclusion-jumping. In the last two and a half days, she'd received a crash course in Enos Strate 401 and today was the test, in more ways than one. _Should she be concerned she was starting to get used to it?_

"He only sees what's on the inside," Daisy mused, with a faraway look.

"Daisy?"

"Yeah," Daisy said, returning to the article about Enos, whose name had not been released. Fortunately, Prop.209 took center stage on the front page and the story of Kate's abduction was pushed below the fold. Of course, it was all 'alleged' and there was no mention of any connection to the assault on a police officer, which was on the inside page.

"Do the people in Hazzard," Kay hesitated slightly, "read the Times or any of the gossip magazines?"

' _That was a good question,'_ Daisy thought and then straightened in spite of the condition of her twice-the-size-of-normal head. "Rosco!"

* * *

* * *

**Detective Reports:**

**(1)Los Angeles Police Department**

November 2, 1997, 6:30 hours

Subject: Missing person - under suspicious circumstances

Primary Scene: 131 North Hamilton, Apt B

Cross-reference with Report #11-35148

Preliminary Report of Detective Inez De Pina

Report #11-35160

Missing, possibly injured, Katherine Denine Broussard, age 30, residing at the above address, was last seen on Friday, October 31, 1997, by staff of La Café Denine at approximately 6:30 hours. (Subject is the owner of the restaurant.) Broussard is Caucasian female, 5’9” in height, approximately 145 pounds, with auburn hair (see recent photo attached).

Broussard (reference #11-35148 – incident report on Detective E. Strate) left a message on the answering machine at the residence of Detective Strate at 20:56 hours, Friday, October 31, 1997 (transcript attached). 

I, Detective De Pina, at approximately 21:35 hours on Saturday, November 1, 1997, in connection with a possible assault on Detective Strate, suspected that Broussard might be involved as an associated or additional victim.

Rationale:

  1. Past and present association between Broussard and Detective Strate
  2. Recent mutual involvement in raid on human traffickers (reference #11-3469) on Wednesday, October 29, 1997
  3. Broussard’s involvement in organizations associated with combating human trafficking and exploitation of children
  4. Location of attack on Detective Strate (see crime scene investigation associated with #11-35148) proximal route to the residence of Broussard and location where Detective Strate appeared at approximately 3:00 hours on Saturday, November 1, 1997 (residence of Inez De Pina)
  5. Inability to reach Broussard by telephone



I arrived at 131 North Hamilton Street at 10:02 hours, meeting uniformed officers, Carl Franks and Lena Oliver, at the entrance. Access to the interior of building from a resident in Apartment A, at which time we announced our presence to the occupant of Apartment B with no response. Due to concerns that the occupant may be in imminent danger, I authorized forced entry to the residence.

There was a clear indication that a struggle had taken place with a lamp and a desk chair knocked over, as well as books strewn on floor and blood spatter on the couch (see initial crime scene photos). Nothing else appeared to be disturbed. Analysis of any latent evidence is pending at this time. The core scene was secured with yellow tape, crime scene log initiated, and maintained by Detective Gordon Thompson who arrived on the scene at 10:21 hours. The crime scene investigation unit was called and arrived shortly thereafter (see log). A crime scene perimeter to the exterior of the building was established in two phases, inner to protect any latent evidence surrounding the building, and outer to limit access to the public.

Preliminary interviews of residents of Apt A and C indicate none of the occupants were aware, at the time of the interview, of any activity in Broussard’s apartment or in the hallway until the arrival of police. Interviews of the public present at the time of the outer perimeter set up garnered no substantive information. Suggest follow up.

Detective Thompson and I, Detective De Pina, reviewed messages on answer machine: three from myself and two from Detective Strate (see time stamps and transcripts attached).

Statements, phone messages, and interviews suggest that Ms. Broussard was assaulted, and removed by force, in her apartment between 20:56 hours on Friday, October 31, 1997, at which time she left a message on Detective Strate’s answer machine, and 0:30 hours on Saturday, November 1, 1997 at which time Detective Strate left the first message on the answering machine at her residence.

Missing person report has been sent to law enforcement and transport services.

Phone records requested for Ms. Broussard and Detective Strate.

Medical examiner report requested for Detective Strate’s incident report.

BOLO issued for K. Broussard.

Forensics reports and blood spatter analysis pending

Captain James Mallory, Detective Support Division, notified

Respectfully submitted,

Inez R. De Pina

++++++++++++++++++++

**(2)Los Angeles Police Department**

November 2, 1997, 7:00 hours

Subject: Injury to a police officer – possible assault by a person or persons unknown

Cross-reference with Report #11-35160

Follow-up Report of Detective Gordon Thompson

Report #11-35148.1

Evidence suggests that Detective I, B. Enos Strate, was en route to the residence of Katherine Denine Broussard, residing at 131 North Hamilton, Apt B from LAX taking the La Cienega in a northerly direction.

Crime scene found (see location and CSI report attached) by grid search of all possible routes to the residence of Detective Inez De Pina (particulars in earlier report).

Detective Strate’s wallet, containing cash in the amount of $157.00, several photos, a receipt for an airplane ticket, and a diamond engagement ring, was left at the scene, on the north side of the building in the poorly lit parking lot. Note that the parking area in front of the mini-mart was under repair and could not be accessed for parking.

The night employee at the mini-mart subsequently identified Detective Strate, as the individual who purchased a pre-paid phone (in-store receipt in the report attached) at 0:52 hours on Saturday, November 1, 1997. The phone was not found at the scene. Debris was sent to forensics. No phone found in debris. Uniformed patrol currently initiating a search of the surrounding area.

Note that the individual described by Mun, Kyung-soon in the attached statement, was subsequently identified by Detective Strate as a former informant, although he could not recall his name at the time of identification. Warren Underwood, aka Squiggy, was identified, later confirmed by Lieutenant Bertrand Adams, as the person who approached Detective Strate outside his apartment on the night of Friday, October 31, 1997, at approximately 21:45 hours.

Medical examiner report requested for Detective Strate’s incident report expected by Monday.

Forensics reports pending on clothing

BOLO issued for Warren Underwood - possible material witness

Captain James Mallory, Detective Support Division, notified

Respectfully submitted,

Gordon T. Thompson


	24. Part 1 - Chapter 24

**Part One - Chapter Twenty Four:**

_**Monday, November 3, 1997 – Burbank, California** _

Daisy sat on the front seat of Thompson's Crown Vic sporting a Kevlar vest with LAPD splashed across the back of it. Thompson had picked Daisy up at Kay's more than an hour and a half before sundown and had handed the vest over to her when she got into the car. "I need you to put this on."

When they veered off the direct route to LAX and started heading north, she asked if they had to take a round-about route because they were still concerned about her safety. As if the Kevlar vest wasn't enough.

"I'll let Strate answer that question. I only know he wanted to talk to you before you left and he didn't want to do it in L.A. We're all, uh, a little paranoid right now."

What Enos had, in fact, said was ‘he was still skittish.’ As far as Thompson was concerned, it was the same thing and he agreed there was a clear and present need to err on the side of caution. "We're headed for the base of the Verdugos, slightly northeast of Burbank."

"Won't I be late for my flight from LAX?"

She wanted to talk to Enos before she left, needed to talk to him. She also knew how adamant he that was she leave.

"You're not flying out of LAX. You're on a non-stop to Atlanta from the Burbank airport."

When the car pulled up to a cattle gate, Thompson got out to open the padlock on the chain securing it. She could see he was talking to someone on the hand-held radio and assumed it was Enos. She'd seen police issued radios and the device Thompson was using wasn't one. The gate creaked open, something that could be heard half a mile away and certainly at the small cabin three hundred yards away at the end of the dirt drive. Getting back in the car, Thompson stopped it on the other side and closed the gate, resetting the padlock on the chain.

As they approached the house, Daisy looked around at the landscape with its random stubble of scrub grass everywhere, and lots of sandy loam. Although hilly, the terrain offered no obstacle for anyone with a rifle. It seemed completely exposed.

"Why would he pick this place? Looks like we would be easy targets out here," she said.

"Already reconnoitered. Nowhere anyone could secrete themselves close by that he, or I, won't be aware of and anywhere else is too long-range for even the best sniper." In answer to the expression on her face, he added, "You can take the man out of SWAT Ms. Duke, but the training stays with them."

Daisy looked at the cabin and then turned back to Thompson.

"You'll find him inside," he said, pointing at the open door.

Ascending three of the five steps, she could see him now, leaning on the door jam. Silhouetted against the mountain range off the back porch, he looked so far away.

The sky was slightly overcast with dark clouds hovering atop the Verdugo fault line; a portent of a storm brewing. She looked around her. From the front steps of the cabin, the landscape looked similar to the Blue Ridge area, if you added more trees, and more humidity, and red clay, and a lot more trees. Even so, the view was impressive with Burbank and the San Fernando Valley stretched out below and the higher, snow-covered mountain ridge in the distance.

Enos turned when he knew she was on the front porch and was there, in front of her, before she reached the door. As if nothing had happened between them, not April, not the last thirty years, she threw her arms around his neck and he pulled her into the closest hug he had ever given her.

"I missed you," she said, still hugging him tight, almost afraid to let go.

"I missed you too, Daisy. But we don't have much time. You have a plane to catch and we need to talk."

"I know," she said, letting him go.

He was being the in-charge Enos again. Gone were the days when she could wrap him around her little finger with a flirty smile and a sweet-voiced 'sugar.' She had decided she liked this Enos better. He was real, more real than the sixteen-year-old version she had tried to hang onto so many years ago.

Thompson watched the exchange from his car, then shook his head, not for the first time, or the last. Strate had a perfectly awesome woman in Kay. Yet, he was out here, in the middle of nowhere, with his arms wrapped around his ex, who Thompson had only recently learned had left Strate at the freaking altar! One of these days, he might figure the man out. Since he didn't give it a chance in hell of being anytime soon, he unsnapped the tab securing his service weapon in its holster and went back to watching the road and the hill behind the cabin.

_**Monday, November 3, 1997 – Burbank, California** _

Enos had not made any attempt to close the doors, front or back, though the cross breeze brought a few bits of loose earth in with it. He took her hand and led her to a bench facing a large, multi-paned window with the same view of the mountains as the back door and laid his gun on the table, butt towards him, ready-to-grab.

Whether he was trying to scare her or impress on her the importance of being cautious, it was working on both counts.

"I was kind of afraid you wouldn't want to come," Enos admitted. He relaxed a little and turned to see her. The overcast sky had limited the light in the otherwise unlit cabin, and it cast random dark shadows on his face.

"Your buddy, Thompson, didn't give me much choice. But nothing would have stopped me, Enos. You should know that."

"Not sure what I know anymore, Daisy."

He looked at her with a sadness she had not seen in those penetrating hazel eyes since his father died. Or _was_ it the last time she'd seen it?

"You comin' out here to L.A. and all. Not callin' first or tellin' anybody what you were doin.'"

"I think I surprised myself."

"So, why _did_ you come to L.A.?"

At least this time he asked. _This was the conversation they should have had on Friday night._ She had certainly thought about it more than a few – hundred – times over the last three days.

"Like you're tryin' to do I guess," she sighed. "Fill in the blanks." Surveying the deep purple half-moons still under both eyes and the splint on his nose, her first instinct was to reach out and touch him, except for the first time in her living memory, she didn't know if she should.

"I guess you got most of them filled in by now." He turned back to the view of the mountains and rested his arms over the table.

"Some of them," she said, watching him play with the stem he had pulled from the vase of desiccated roses on the table, his hand not straying far from the gun. "Others? I guess they don't matter anymore."

Picking the dried petals off the rose, he had exposed undried petals of blood-red within. _The flowers in the vase were recent._ She looked around the interior of what she had assumed, from the outside, was a seldom-used cabin. Inside, there was only a week's worth of dust on the windowsills.

Though Thompson had given her a reason, she found herself asking, "Why did you bring me way out here?"

"It's close to the airport and isolated. Hardly anybody knows about it."

She noticed the overstuffed chair and couch were new and placed in front of a fireplace with wood that had been recently burned.

She honed-in on the far corner. "This is your cabin, isn't it?"

Next to the fireplace sat a mahogany wood chair and music stand, similar to the one in Kay's apartment.

Still fixated on his hands, he nodded his head slowly and put the rose back in the vase. "Not yet. It will be. Eventually."

Without moving his right hand from next to the gun, he turned and flashed her a quick smile. "I thought it was time I put down some roots."

Daisy heard, _'now I have a reason.'_

She thought of the years it had taken Enos to pay off the mortgage on the Strate farm where Uncle Frank and Aunt Judy had been living on for the last thirty years. He had said more than once he would never take on another. _We should never say never._

His smile had disappeared, and she knew from what Kay had told her, Kate Broussard was not far from Enos's thoughts.

"You're not responsible. For Kate. You know that, don't you?"

"My brain knows it, Daisy, but my conscience is somethin' different." He took a deep breath and straightened. "I didn't bring you out here to talk about Kate. We don't have much time, and I wanna talk about you and me."

"From what I've seen, there isn't any 'you and me.' Not anymore. Maybe there never was," she said, looking away so he wouldn't see the tears welling in her eyes.

"Don't say that, Daisy. Please don't say that."

"Uncle Jesse said we were only kids, but…" She swallowed the lump in her throat and sniffled, "You left me behind...and it changed everything."

"I know. And I'm so sorry. And Uncle Jesse was right," he hesitated and closed his eyes for only a second. "You didn’t love me _that way_ , Daisy. Not the adult kind of love. Took me an awful long time to admit the truth to myself. But it is true. You know it is."

She looked at him now, not trying to hide her watery eyes. "The way you love her?"

"Yes."

He'd said it without a moment's hesitation. It wasn't as hard as he had imagined. In fact, it was kind of liberating.

"No doubts?" she asked.

"Not a single one."

"Enos, I'm so sorry I hurt you." The tears started coming again, harder this time and she leaned her face into his shoulder.

"That's not the reason...And if anybody's to blame...I guess we both gotta take some of it."

"What I did..."

He pulled her away from his shoulder, cupped her head with his hands, and wiped her face with his thumb.

"Daisy. Listen to me. I've thought a lot about it over the last couple of months. You were _smarter_ than me, is all. Stronger. You knew it wasn't right for either of us. We were both hangin' on to memories of how things were between us – before I left. Maybe, if I hadn't left for Atlanta when we were sixteen...back when we were kids..."

"I've thought about it too," she sighed, wiping another tear from her cheek. "...If you hadn't gone to the Academy, I might have gotten what I wanted. Or, maybe what I thought I wanted…you might not have become the man you are now...I'd have clipped your wings."

"If I'd gotten what I thought I wanted, I think I woulda' done the same to you," he said, with a sad, knowing smile of his.

"Maybe if you had mailed the letters...I think that's what made me get on a plane Friday morning. I needed to know why."

"I wish I had an answer for you, Daisy. I don't know why I didn't mail them."

"I think..I think I know, now. And I think deep down, so do you. I think maybe you knew all along too. The way she looks when she talks about you...you deserve someone who loves you...like that."

He let go of her. "I started another letter to you a couple of months ago, but I couldn’t get past the first line. I guess it was 'cause I was actually gonna' mail it this time. Funny how it was so easy before - when I had no intention of mailin’ them."

Through the tears, she laughed for the first time in a week. "All 476 of 'em?"

"Maybe things woulda' been different..." He squeezed her hand. "…different doesn't mean it woulda' been good for either of us."

Daisy wanted to tell him he was wrong. She knew he wasn't. And, for some insane reason, she thought of the apple peel thrown over her shoulder, landing at his feet in the form of an 'S.'

"So what now? You and Kay gonna get married?"

He got a strange sense of the surreal talking to Daisy about Soonie; like the Earth's poles had somehow reversed. There were things he could tell Daisy and things that were private between him and Soonie.

"It's kind of complicated for both of us right now."

They fell into momentary silence, with his thoughts wandering to some distant place, until Daisy asked, "Enos? You ever comin' home again?"

Before he could answer or tell her he would always have one foot in Hazzard and the other wherever Soonie was, there was a creak on the front porch and Enos's hand reached immediately for the semi-automatic on the table.

"Daisy, hunker down behind the chair," he said, while he raised his weapon, left palm cupped under his right hand, pointed it in the direction of the creak. Then he heard Thompson's tap on the door jam and relaxed.

Thompson came into the room holding the radio up and said, "Kim says she's got something we need to see."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Angela Kim pulled up to the back door in her own vehicle and pulled a smallish figure with slicked back greasy hair out of the back seat. He was handcuffed and bent over.

"I believe," she said to Enos, "you're acquainted with Mr. Underwood?"

While Enos retrieved Daisy from behind the chair, Angie deposited the man unceremoniously onto the bench on which Enos and Daisy had just been sitting.

"I caught the little slime trying to sneak in through the back entrance. Wasn't too good at it. Kind of stupid, actually."

Thompson said, his gun raised and pointed at Mr. Underwood. "Put your hands on the table where we can see them."

The man complied, but protested, "She didn't Mirandize me. Hauled me in here when I was mindin’ my own business. Enos, you gonna let her get away with that?"

"You wanna' be Mirandized, Squiggy?" Enos asked. "’Cause we can do it right here, right now, all official-like."

"No, that'd mean you're gonna take me in. I don't wanna go in."

Enos motioned for Daisy to sit in the chair he'd ask her to hide behind and took a place on the bench across from the man.

"We got a lot a pallaberin' to do, Squiggy, so you better settle in." He was laying on the Blue Ridge as thickly as he could.

Angie tapped her watch at Enos, reminding him of the time. He stood again and looked down at a contrite Squiggy.

"Think real hard before I get back, Squig. Or I'll just leave you with Detective Thompson over here. And just so ya' know, he didn't git that cast on his arm from playin' tennis."

Enos took Daisy's hand and led her out the back door, with her straining her neck to see the little man who looked both terrified and defiant at the same time and Thompson, in his three-piece suit smiling at him.

"Enos. Is he the guy who Kay said came up to you at your apartment? What are you gonna' do with him?"

"Daisy, listen to me." Enos kept having to pull her gaze away from the scene in the cabin. "It doesn't matter right now who he is. You have to catch a plane. Angie's gonna' escort you to the Atlanta Airport and Rosco's gonna' pick you up. She'll fill you in on the way. Angie, you got her carry-bag?"

"In the car."

"Enos, I can't go like this. There's too much we need to talk about, things I want to say."

"Gonna' have to wait, Daisy. Please. If you _ever_ loved me at all, please do this for me."

Daisy threw her arms around him again and closed her eyes. "Are you still gonna' come for Thanksgiving?"

"We'll see."

He un-threaded her arms from his neck and put her in the car. Angela Kim headed toward the Burbank airport. He had not actually remembered the conversation he had with her at LAX when he tried to put her on a plane home the first time. No matter, Turk had related enough. He knew what she meant about coming for Thanksgiving. Now he had that burden to bear as well.

_**Tuesday, November 4, 1997 – Atlanta, Georgia** _

The Boeing 737 landed at Hartsfield-Jackson International at 4:23 a.m. Atlanta time. Deplaning, Daisy found Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane waiting for her at the gate.

"Hey, Rosco."

Rosco played with his tie and tried to smile at her. He kept doing that thing with an alternating silly smile and worried frown…sometimes it made Daisy think there was more to him than met the eye. And he was distracted by her companion.

"Rosco, this is Detective Angela Kim."

"Ooooo, Enos told me somebody was gonna' escort you. When I visited him in Los Angeles long ago, I don’t remember seein’ any female detectives who were so fetching. Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane at your service."

Angela opened her eyes wide and gave Daisy a look which clearly said, _'Is he for real?'_ and Daisy returned it with, _'Told ya.'_

"Hey, Daisy girl. You got any luggage, uh, needs retrieving from that whirligig they call a carousel?"

"No, just this carry on," Daisy said, flashing him a smile, then caught him by surprise. She hugged him around the neck with her free arm and then pulled back to admire his new look. "Oh, Rosco, you old charmer. You look so handsome in plain clothes. You went all out, vest and everything."

Enos didn't have the market cornered on blushing. "Don't feel right workin' outta' uniform. Not sure how the dipstick does it. This gun's awful hard to see-crete under my jacket."

With eyebrows raised nearly to her hairline, Angela mouthed, _'Dipstick?'_

Daisy rolled her eyes. "Pet name. Umm, a term of endearment," she said.

"Ah. Sheriff, I see you carry a revolver. His service weapon is a Berretta semi-automatic," Angela offered. "A bit shorter and less obtrusive...and he doesn't try to, uh, secrete it. You know, badge and all?" She pointed to the one clipped to her belt.

"Yeah, but how 'bout when he's, you know, tryin' to be co-vert?" he whispered.

"If I told you, then it wouldn't be co-vert anymore, would it?" Angela whispered back with such a mischievous twinkle in her eye, it forced a short snort-giggle out of Daisy.

"That's enough chewin' the fat, Rosco. Detective Kim has to catch a plane back to L.A. in half an hour." She turned to Angie and said, "Thanks, Angie."

"You're welcome." Angie winked. "Enos will get my bill."

"Awful nice meetin' you, Detective Kim." Rosco straightened his suit jacket again.

"Same here, Sheriff."

"Tell Enos...Tell him I said, hey."

"Sure thing, Sheriff. Now I really do have to go." And she hurried away to catch the queue for her return flight.

Daisy caught hold of her carry bag and surveyed Rosco again. ' _Ole Rosco did look pretty dapper in his suit,'_ Daisy thought and wondered who picked it out for him.

"Well, we better get a move on, now, Daisy," he said. "We gotta' pick up your motorcycle yet and get it in the back o' the truck. Say, what'd she mean ‘Enos would get her bill’?"

"Never mind, Rosco," she sighed. "Let's get going. I don't want anybody seein' me switch to my bike when we get close to the farm."


	25. Part 1 - Chapter 25

**Part One - Chapter Twenty Five:**

_**Tuesday, November 3-4, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

Enos headed back into the cabin to find Thompson, no longer smiling, still holding his gun trained at Warren Underwood's chest.

"Relax," he told him, "Mr. Underwood's not goin' anywhere, are ya' Squiggy?"

"Course not." Squiggy said, looking back at Thompson. "I came here to warn you. Again." Cautiously turning his attention to Enos, he said, "You wanna get the suit outta my face and tell him I'm one of the good guys?"

Enos motioned for Thompson to lower his weapon. Squiggy was squirrely enough without having a gun pointed at him. Thompson lowered his weapon, but, instead of holstering it, he pulled up a chair and kept his weapon at a ready position.

"You're not gonna take me in, are you? Cause I can't go in...just can't...they'll know it was me. Took a chance comin' here as it is."

"There's a BOLO out on you," Thompson said, "Whoever _they_ are, probably already know. So who are they and why were you at Strate's apartment Friday night?"

He ignored Thompson and concentrated on Enos. "Still owe you and Turk one. Figure I could pay my debt. Never found a way to do it before. But I didn't know for sure about anything, I swear."

"Never mind me, what about Kate?"

"Well, you know what I used to do, you know, when you and Turk got me outta that predicament? Thought maybe I could work for you again." He looked over at Thompson again. "Can we do this alone?"

"Thompson stays. You talk," Enos said without skipping a beat.

"He your partner?" Squiggy's left eye twitched and he blinked both eyes rapidly.

"Are you strung out?" Thompson asked.

"Hell no. I don't do that shit. Enos, tell him I don't..."

"Squiggy!" Enos grabbed the upper bridge of his nose, above the splint, to pinch off as much of the advancing pain and nausea as he could. Malice crept into his voice that unnerved even Thompson.

"I'm usually a real patient man. But I got a headache the size of a Georgia watermelon and I'm worn slap out...so my patience is wearin' real, real thin. Unless you wanna find your sorry carcass out on the street where _they_ can git at ya,' you better start spillin' the beans about what you said to me on Friday night and everything you know about what happened to Kate Broussard."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Turned out Squiggy, who had been in his very early twenties when Turk and Enos met him, had made a lifetime career of being a gopher for the lower levels of humanity; in L.A., in San Francisco, San Diego and finally, back in L.A. for the past several months. Since he had been out of the area for so long, no one knew of his former 'association' with police officers from the LAPD. There was a new crop of lowlifes out there. Within the span of a few months, he had already tapped that well dry.

Kate never had a chance. In all his forty-five years, Enos had only thought himself capable of deliberately ending someone's life once before and it had sent him back to Hazzard for six years.

The worm sat on the information for a week before Kate was abducted. Squiggy had all kinds of excuses, none of which Enos would ever forgive him for. The only thing that had kept him from grabbing the little bastard by the neck was Thompson pulling Squiggy out of the way and throwing him into the back of the car. They drove back to the city in complete silence. When they arrived at central booking, Thompson spirited him off to interrogation - Squiggy protesting all the way that Enos had lied to him and Thompson reminding him that Strate had never said he wouldn't take him in.

"Strate just said if you didn't want to find yourself back on the street. Let's just say, for now, you're in protective custody. And you better hope the street's the only thing you need to be protected from, Buddy-roe."

Enos wasn't around to hear any of the exchange between Thompson and Mr. Warren Underwood; didn't trust himself enough to be in the same room with him. He was preparing a warrant for Kate's former pimp, one Victor Baptiste Mollaret.

~~~~~*~~~~~

When Thompson came out of the interview room, Enos was at his desk; having deposited a bottle of acetaminophen in his jacket, he was just finishing off a bottle of water. Thompson made four more marks in his notebook, along with the time – but that was an educated guess. Didn't matter how many Strate had just taken or how non-narcotic they were, he'd already exceeded the recommended dosage in a twenty-four-hour period about four hours ago.

Getting what details Squiggy actually knew out of him took until well after midnight. They were now at eighteen hours without sleep and counting. That would not have been a problem, or a first, for either of them had it not been for the fact that he believed Strate was about to fold under the pain, the latent effects of the concussion, and the emotional pressure.

Since she was on her way in, Thompson figured De Pina would likely be aware of the situation soon enough anyway. He decided on a course of action that, while it might put him in the man's crosshairs, might also keep Strate in the game and afford him some much-needed sleep – until it was time to go after Mollaret.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Rosco had reported that Daisy was home safe and sound. Now, Soonie was gone too, and the loneliness Enos felt, just knowing she wasn't in the city, was tenfold what he had ever known in the nearly eleven years before. The worst of it was, he hadn't been able to see her before she left for San Francisco. Her uncle's security firm would have whisked her away the previous afternoon, long before he and Thompson were able to get back into the city.

Inez walked up behind him while he was studying the traffic sloth it's way along North Los Angeles Street.

"Captain sent the warrant to the judge, E. We won't hear from him for a few hours. You should get some sleep?"

"I don't think I could sleep even if I tried."

Enos turned, the dizziness threatening his balance, and looked down at her. She looked so tiny sometimes he forgot how formidable she could be. What Thompson had said to him Sunday night about being blind...He could see it in her eyes. Maybe it's what Aaron had seen.

"That wasn't a request," she said. Gripping his arm and squeezing it gently, she whispered, "You're already skating on thin ice because you ducked the follow-up exam yesterday. So if you don't get your ass over to Doctor Perez in the next half hour, Mallory's going to take your gun and your badge."

It didn't matter what she said, her eyes were begging him, as he had begged Daisy. For the first time, he could see it and wondered, after all these years, how he hadn't seen it before.

Tired to the point of exhaustion and washed out by the throbbing in his head, he was not prepared for that kind of eye-opener. Exhaustion, like loss, sometimes provides clarity. Once your inner defenses are sloughed off, not much is left but the cold hard clarity of truth. He bent his head, closed his eyes and swallowed back the fluid running into his throat. When he opened them again, she was still staring up at him - _'do it for me, because I love you'_ behind her eyes. The time for hiding how she felt about him had long passed.

"I'm so sorry, Inez. I didn't know."

"Never meant you to," she said, fighting the tears she knew would only make him feel worse. "Go home, E. Go home to Soonie."

_**Tuesday, November 4, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

Victor Mollaret sat alone in the dirty office biting off the last bit of nail on his right index finger. The smell of chemicals lingered from years of treating lumber in the facility. The warehouse was quiet and it made him nervous. This fly-by-night sex shop wasn't the elite escort service he had run before, but it was nonetheless lucrative, and that would not begin anew until late afternoon – if it began at all. The giant fans were silent and he wondered _'where the hell was the rest of his crew?'_

He had already lost one of his cash cows to that sicko, Crum. The fresh meat he'd bought six months ago called Crum 'two by four.' That problem was over and done with. Poetic being offed by your own signature weapon. Ha! He laughed with a sneer.

They wouldn't sell him any more young girls. The heat was too high. They had their own losses to supplement. He had lost one because of Crum, _they_ had lost five because of the raid. And it made them more nervous than he was. He was being blamed when it was that idiot Crum who had killed the kid.

It wasn't his fault!

Mollaret had wanted to take his time terrorizing Kate. Thanks to Two by Four, he'd had to accelerate his plans for Kate and Strate. In spite of his life being worth about two cents at the moment, he laughed again at his pairing of their names. He was wicked clever.

He'd been able to control Kate when she first came to L.A. back in '84. For years he had been able to dangle the threat of her sister over her head. She was so gullible, so stupid. He hadn't even known where the damn kid was – still didn't. But that hadn't stopped him from looking. Just the threat of hurting the girl had been enough to keep Kate in line for the four years before she turned on him. Before she met that f***ing Georgia hillbilly. He'd underestimated the f***ing son of a bitch back then.

But Strate would never find the bitch, not in a million years. She was gone and that idiot, Crum? _He_ was stuffed in the trunk of a car in a shipping container headed for Taiwan. He smirked at the thought. Man, would those car dealers get a surprise when they unloaded that shipment!

~~~~~*~~~~~

Through his drug-induced stupor, the smoke was only barely noticeable at first. Some idiot a**hole burning trash in the neighborhood. Punks did it all the time. Mollaret got up from his chair, artificially energized for a fight he believed he could win. He'd put a scare into the little bastards.

But the smell was acrid when he stumbled to the door. It was hot. The crack he'd scored wasn't even that good. How long had he been out?

Opening the door was the last thing Victor Baptiste Mollaret did on this earth.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Enos didn't put up much of a fight when Doctor Perez, who had come in at 2:00 a.m. to check out one of the department's detectives at the request of Captain Mallory, had carefully and in graphic detail explained to him what would happen if he continued down the road he was headed.

Perez summed it up with a warning. "Detective. Under normal circumstances, your prognosis would be good for normal recovery. But you are facing long-range issues, not to mention serious brain damage, if you keep up this pace. You're pushing the envelope, son. I know I'm not your primary, but I know what he would say."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm going to re-schedule your appointment with your primary for later today and you had better show up."

"Yes, sir."

"You understand that if you don't comply, Captain Mallory won't get a chance to pull your badge officially because I'll pull it."

"Yes, sir. Can I go now?"

"Only if you're going home. You still aren't released to drive. And leave your service weapon and your badge with Detective De Pina for now. You'll get them, and your license, back when you're medically cleared."

"Yes, sir. Can I go home now?"

~~~~~*~~~~~

Now Enos sat in the passenger seat of the Crown Vic looking up at the fourth-floor window of Soonie's apartment. He and Thompson hadn't exchanged more than ten words on the drive from Parker Center. Even if he hadn't been on the last drop of adrenaline, he wouldn't have blamed Thompson for what he did.

But Thompson must have felt guilty about it anyway. Enos was about to open the door of the car to get out when Thompson said, "You didn't give me much choice."

"Yeah, I know. You did the right thing. Not tellin' me Soonie was still in L.A., though? That's somethin' you and me are gonna talk about sooner rather than later."

"Yep...got it."

While Enos, duffel bag filled with fresh clothes courtesy of Mrs. Huang in hand, was keying in the security code, Thompson dialed Kay's mobile number.


	26. Part 1 - Chapter 26

**Part One – Chapter Twenty Six:**

_**Tuesday, November 4, 1997 – Hazzard Elementary - Hazzard, Georgia** _

Daisy sat on the bench outside the elementary school library and waited for Annie Poe. They hadn't known each other very well. Annie had come to Hazzard at eighteen or nineteen and had lived there since, while Daisy had been mostly gone from Hazzard.

The twenty-eight-year-old was attractive, but she was also quiet and shy. Kept to herself mostly. Daisy couldn't remember if she'd ever heard of Annie being in the company of any of Hazzard's various bachelors. A teacher's assistant and librarian, she wasn't Bo's usual type, but he appeared to have taken a real fancy to her. Although he would deny it.

She also volunteered at the Hazzard walk-in clinic twice a week and just happened to be have been there when Bo, the reckless idiot he could be sometimes, had come in with a sprained ankle.

Daisy opened the note that Angie had handed her on the plane again and waited.


	27. Part 1 - Chapter 27

**Part One - Chapter Twenty Seven:**

" _Take forgiveness, take a prayer, take the deepest breath_

_Take the answers in your heart_

_When you wake up and the world is cruel and cold_

_My love follows you where you go._

_Future like a promise, you're a city of Gold_

_Stubborn in your bones and Jesus in your soul_

_Seeing you stand there, staring at the unknown_

_I won't pretend that it's not killing me_

_Watching you walk away slow."_

_My Love Follows You Where You Go_ , Alison Krauss & Union Station

**_Tuesday, November 18, 1997 – Los Angeles, CA_ **

It was late afternoon when Angela Kim passed Enos on her way to the break room and asked several times if he wanted some coffee. He was so deep in thought he apparently didn't hear her. With a sigh, she looked over at Thompson who shook his head, motioned for her to forget it, and move on, then kept one eye on Strate and the other on De Pina. She wasn't giving any indication she had noticed…did not mean she hadn't.

For the last fourteen days, and in sharp contrast to the chaotic week before, Strate had been quiet, docile even. He stayed at his desk, without asking to be taken off light-duty, performing whatever task was put before him, no matter how trifling, and had been religiously obedient to doctor's orders. When asked, he simply said he would be glad when he got his badge back. Then he and Thompson would meet in the evening at Kay's after shift to work on piecing together what happened to Kate after she was abducted.

It was apparent he had recovered physically. He'd undergone his psyche evaluation yesterday to determine if he was emotionally and psychologically ready to go back out on the streets with a badge _and a gun_ and he was waiting for the results.

Thompson noticed Inez watching Strate as though he was a bomb; tick, tick, ticking away until the moment of that one last tick before the explosion. Strate had been staying with Kay since the day Daisy Duke left. He had pegged De Pina as a scrappy fighter, hanging in there until the last, not giving up. She seemed to be keeping a respectable distance. _'Maybe he was wrong about her emotional investment in Strate.'_

When nothing went boom, Thompson returned his attention to his report while Enos used extreme prejudice to erase the life out of something he had written on the piece of scrap paper in front of him and then burned another file onto a disc.

~~~~~*~~~~~

When Mollaret had been the procurer of Kate's upper crust clients, he'd been known as Etienne Baptiste Hebert; the name and identity under which Inez and Enos had tried to serve the warrant in late April 1988.

The warrant originally issued for Hebert was based on Kate's eyewitness statements and evidence she had gathered at the time. He'd been her pimp, her controller, and eventually the object of her campaign to do whatever it took to stop him from his side activity, using and abusing children in the dark world of the pornography trade. It was only later when they searched his rooms and office the extent of his criminal activity was evidenced.

Faced with charges of child molestation in California in 1988, Hebert evaded the warrant for his arrest and fled to Canada. Conviction on felony charges of child pornography and sexual abuse of a minor, also federal crimes, would have carried a likely penalty of up to fifteen years in a state prison housing murderers and other bottom feeders with one mutual hatred of 'chomos.' Prison could be a living hell for pedophiles. Other inmates, many of whom had children on the outside, saw it as a badge of honor to return the abuse. For those without children or on the lower rungs of the ladder, killing or beating senseless a child molester meant moving up the prison hierarchy.

When he was arrested in Quebec under the name of Baptiste Arceneau for drug trafficking, there were no extradition applications filed. He wasn't recognized as the subject of an outstanding warrant in California, USA, nor were his fingerprints cross-referenced in any shared database. Few existed in 1989 and those which did were not computerized or shared in a way conducive to connecting the dots. He had done jail time, though not for the most heinous offense.

Now that it was strongly suspected Kate had been carried over state lines on commercial transport, the LAPD was working with the FBI to build a profile on Mollaret, aka Hebert, aka Arceneau. Having sprung fully grown under the Hebert alias from a small town on the Mississippi coast, he had moved his way toward New Orleans in 1981. The FBI was still working on his original identity. He obviously preferred French Acadian or Cajun names, with Baptiste being a common factor in the names he chose.

Under the alias Arceneau, Hebert had been released from the Quebec prison five months ago. The LAPD file picked back up from there and backtracked his arrival in Los Angeles, where Hebert had now become Mollaret at the end of July, with both means and opportunity. Enos was able to fill in some of the blanks for the profile as it pertained to motive and Hebert's connection to Kate Broussard. It had been personal against Kate, and for good measure, against him. The profile they had assembled over the past two weeks was a textbook case of drug-fueled paranoia and payback.

Hebert and Kate already had a history before she arrived in L.A. He'd been the manager of a shabby-chic, trendy restaurant in the Faubourg Marigny district of New Orleans where she was a waitress in 1983. After having established a sexual relationship with _Katie_ , as she was known then, Hebert lured her out to L.A. with the promise of a better life and more money in Hollywood. _She had talent, he had 'connections' and could get her into the movies._

"Kate was only sixteen and a half years old," he told agent Carlsen. It was still hard for him to say without a hitch in his voice. Adding insult to injury, the statute of limitations for Statutory Rape (carnal knowledge of a juvenile under the age of seventeen) was ten years and had run out nearly four years ago.

It was more difficult for him to recount to Carlsen how Kate's life had spiraled out of control after she met Hebert. He and Kate had not discussed it again after she'd confessed to him what her real occupation was and how she'd come to be a highly paid, highly demanded prostitute. The only change his attitude toward her was his belief she was the strongest person he had ever known.

Her strength is what kept Enos believing she was alive and because the blood spatters found in her apartment, although as yet unidentified, wasn't hers.

He'd read and re-read the files and transcripts a hundred times, trying to find one more needle, one more straw. Next up was the coroner's report on Mollaret.

Death by sudden asphyxiation. Toxicology reported enough crack cocaine in his system to have disoriented him. When he opened the office door, the acrid smoke and carbon monoxide overwhelmed his respiratory system, likely killing him within seconds, and then, within thirty seconds, his body was hit with an explosive backdraft. Either way, the son of a bitch was dead. The crack, with its devastating effects on long-term users, was probably what fueled the maniacal way he had first stalked, then abducted Kate.

From endless interviews and interrogations, Enos and Thompson had pieced together Mollaret's increasingly irrational obsession to take revenge on Kate. She had dared to defy him, had made him run, had made him lose everything he had so painstakingly built. Apparently, his only impediment was Enos Strate, the lowly Georgia hillbilly probie cop who had helped Kate take him down.

During his explanation to Agent Carlsen, Enos had been careful not to refer to Kate's sister, Mignon. He hoped it would not come up. If it did, he would have to lie to a federal law enforcement officer and say he knew nothing about a sister. It was the one promise to Kate he could keep and on his father's grave, he _would_ keep it. That secret was on a need to know basis. To date, there was only one other person who both needed to know and to whom he would entrust such knowledge.

Enos could barely force himself to read the transcripts of Squiggy's interrogations, of which there were several, without wanting to pay him a personal visit. They had only been able to hold the little maggot for forty-eight hours. With Mollaret dead, Squiggy had no problem going back on the street. Once released, he had disappeared into the ether.

It mattered little now how Hebert had managed the abduction. It was merely a part of the record – the one under LAPD jurisdiction. What mattered now was what he had done with her afterward.

Together, Enos and Thompson had figured that part out. At least they had a good lead. Kate was alive, and somewhere in Western Asia or Eastern Europe. No longer under LAPD jurisdiction and something he would share with the FBI and Interpol.

~~~~~*~~~~~

When Captain Mallory came back at 4:10 p.m. from his afternoon meeting, he called Inez into his office and closed the blinds.

"So, what's the verdict?" she said settling herself in the chair across from him.

"The psychologist cleared Strate for active duty. Gun, badge, everything." Mallory sat behind his desk, unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk, and pulled two service weapons and a detective's badge.

Turning his attention back to De Pina, he said, "You look," he hesitated, "I was going to say surprised. More like disappointed. Something you want to share, Inez?"

"No, sir."

"You're sure."

"Yes, sir."

"You don't look sure. Do you think Strate somehow 'hornswoggled' the shrink?"

"No, sir. It's not that."

"Then out with it. He's probably out there on pins and needles. No reason to make him wait longer than necessary to get him back to work. We're light one good detective on the street."

Inez fidgeted with her fingernail, then got up and walked to the door. "I'll tell him you want to see him."

Mallory, who didn't miss much of what happened in his division, didn't stop her or call her back, but he knew something was up and had the feeling he probably wasn't going to like it.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Leaving a disappointed, albeit resigned, Captain Mallory in his office, service weapons and badge still on the desk in front of him, Inez followed E into the elevator. They both maintained a silent, professional distance until the doors opened and they made the distance to where his truck was parked.

She had been silent too long. The boom Thompson was looking for had been building all day and she was determined not to let another minute go by without trying to talk him out of what he had done. It wasn't too late. All he had to do was go back into Mallory's office and pick up his badge.

Before she could beg him to un-quit, he pulled her into his arms and whispered in her ear, "I have to do this. You know that."

All she could manage was to nod her head into his shoulder and hold him until she was able to let him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 'Chomos' is a term used by inmates in some prisons to refer to child molesters.
> 
> *Hebert is pronounced 'A-bear' – it is the most common Cajun (Acadian) surname in Louisiana
> 
> *Arceneau is pronounced 'Ar–sen–oh' and is the Acadian French spelling used before the deportation of Acadians in Canada who ended up in South Louisiana and whose ancestors are now known as Cajun (derived from slurring the French pronunciation of Acadian) In Louisiana of today, the name is usually spelled with an 'x' at the end.
> 
> *Mignon is pronounced "Min-yohn' with the last 'n' nearly silent.
> 
> 1034\. KIDNAPPING—FEDERAL JURISDICTION  
> Federal jurisdiction over kidnapping extends to the following situations: (1) kidnapping in which the victim is willfully transported in interstate or foreign commerce; (2) kidnapping within the special maritime and territorial jurisdiction of the United States; (3) kidnapping within the special aircraft jurisdiction of the United States; (4) kidnapping in which the victim is a foreign official, an internationally protected person, or an official guest as those terms are defined in 18 U.S.C. § 1116(b); (5) kidnapping in which the victim is a Federal officer or employee designated in 18 U.S.C. § 1114; and (6) international parental kidnapping in which the victim is a child under the age of 16 years.


	28. Part 1 - Chapter 28

**Part One - Chapter Twenty Eight:**

_"Twinkle, twinkle, little star,  
How I wonder what you are.  
Up above the world so high,  
Like a diamond in the sky..."_

Jane Taylor, 1806

**_Wednesday, November 19, 1997 – Los Angeles, CA – a little after midnight_ **

Home...

Enos couldn't remember a time when he didn't think about home, not a place to live, but home; some far-off future thing, something to work for, to dream of. It seemed so easy for everyone else who fell in love, got married, had a couple of kids, and worked their farms or their jobs. Why was it so hard for him? If he was being honest with himself, _home_ was not something he thought he would actually have – and would forever and always be out of reach. The closest he had ever come to it in his adult life was with Inez and Aaron – so real sometimes he could almost touch it. Still, it wasn't what he was looking for.

Staring at the shadows on the ceiling, he was plagued by the same nagging thought he'd had for a week. He'd stupidly allowed himself to think it would last. He'd had a solid chance...at having a home, putting down roots. One that was his, one he could share. He had allowed himself so much hope, the Thursday before Halloween he had called Mr. Hargrove and told him he was taking the option to buy the property.

 _Like the pans after pie makin' day now, nothin' left but the crumbs._ Now he would need to call Mr. Hargrove again and rescind the offer.

Soonie had given him a glimpse of what life could be like without the constant loneliness and the abiding ache that came with thinking nothing would change.

It was cruel in a way – what she had done to him - carved out a place in his heart - forever only a deep, bottomless, unfillable hole without her.

If he was going to do what he had to do, he couldn't put down roots, or have a home, or drag anyone else into it. Not now. Not yet. Giving up Soonie was unimaginable three weeks ago. Now, he could already feel the pain of it under his rib cage, constricting his heart and making its way into his throat.

With Hebert dead, the immediate threat was gone. At first, he told himself staying with Soonie would keep him from being put back into the hospital, or at the very least, keep him from being treated like he was going to break at any minute. He had told himself staying at her place simply made more sense. If she wouldn't go to San Francisco, at least she was where he could keep an eye on her, protect her. He told himself her apartment was a bigger space for him and Thompson to work. Those were excuses. He knew it. He knew it even as he was thinking it. He was being selfish, holding on for dear life; hoping he _could_ hold on and knowing he probably couldn't.

They were living together, but they weren't sleeping together. He'd at least maintained some self-control.

Soonie grounded him, made sure he had enough to eat, that his clothes were clean, then, sent him off to work every day before she went to her own office. He knew what it was like to smell her scent in his clothes all day long. He came home to her, she fed him and Thompson while they worked on the case and he went to bed – in the guest room. Made it all the harder for him to leave. Maybe Aunt Judy was right. _He_ was the one who made everything difficult.

Hope has a strange, hypnotic power and the universe has a wicked, sadistic sense of humor.

He'd told Daisy they were fated to be together and the apple peel proved it. The apple peel had fallen at _his_ feet. The prophecy hadn't foretold Strate, it was for Soonie.

Or maybe it was for 'solitary' and he was fated to be alone, forever. It was his last thought before he fell into an unsettled sleep.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Enos awoke a couple of hours later to find Soonie sitting on the edge of the bed clad only in his plaid shirt. In the seconds before he was fully awake and aware she should not be there, he touched the front of the shirt next to the pocket where the dumpling had fallen and wished she hadn't done such a good job getting out the stain. If it was still there, he would never wash the shirt again if only to prove to himself that once, for a moment in time, he'd known what bliss was.

She put her hand gently on his chest and said, "There is something I must tell you."

...and he realized she was real.

He sat upright in bed, careful not to touch her. "It can't wait until morning?"

"No, it cannot. I am going to have to go to Seoul."

"...Why?"

"Eun-kyung's maternal grandparents are contesting my brother's will. They have filed for custody."

"But you're her legal guardian."

"Not if I do not appear before the ministry in person. I cannot bring her here, back to the US, without going to Korea first."

"When did you find this out?"

"I have known for a while her parents might make trouble for me. I had hoped to be able to do this through Uncle's attorneys. They have not been able to find a way. The laws about taking Korean born children out of the country are complex."

She laid her head into his chest before he had a chance to stop her. He felt his self-control beginning to slip.

"How can they contest the will?" Having her so close was almost too much for him to bear. "Their daughter left Gem, she just left her..." Though he'd seen it over and over again on-the-job and working at the community center, Enos still could not understand how a mother could leave her child.

Soonie put him partially out of his misery by removing her head from next to his heart.

"No one knows where the vile woman is. If her parents know, they are not saying. According to Uncle, they will say Jae-sung was guilty of neglect and not a fit father to have left her."

"That makes no sense. He was helping people."

"It will not matter to a minister or judge whose only job is to make sure Korean children do not leave the country irresponsibly. The climate for adoption of Korean children is under some pressure and is being scrutinized much more carefully. That much we know. If I do not make an appearance in a ministry court by the end of the month, they will take her from my father until the matter is settled."

Enos wanted to take hold of her hand but he stopped himself. "You still haven't talked to your father."

"No. However, if he wants to keep Eun-kyung, he will have to speak to me, if only through an attorney." He could tell she was struggling with something. Her eyes were closed, and her expression was the one she usually had when she was choosing her words carefully.

"I must go but I do not want it to be a choice between you and my niece. I came to ask you about the promise."

He pulled his knees to his chest under the cover and rested his arms on them – a barrier between them he needed to establish.

"You said you could not make any promises to me until you talked to Daisy until you told her about us."

"That was before all this happened. I can't make any promises to you I can't keep."

"Then you are forcing me to make a choice."

"It isn't a choice, Soonie. That little girl needs you. You have to go."

"Yes, I do. I was hoping it would be knowing you will be here when I return."

"I can't promise you that either."

"It is what I have been afraid of. I have seen where this is headed - this quest of yours. You are going off to find Kate."

"I have to Soonie, I have to. No one else is gonna' have the same motivation."

"I know you do. And I would not try to stop you. What I do not understand is how it keeps you from making a promise to me?"

"I can't ask you to wait around for me."

"And you will let me go, without any kind of future to look forward to, with no hope that, out of all this, we can find something good to hold onto."

"What I have to do. I have to do it alone. I can't put you in danger. If something happened to you..."

"Like dying in a car accident or a drive-by or an outbreak of hostilities between South and North Korea?"

Though she had gotten up and was walking away from him, she had his attention now and it motivated him to throw off the covers and sit on the edge of the bed. He gripped the mattress to keep from catapulting himself in her direction.

"Those would at least be sudden," she said, stopping before she reached the open door. "If we waste what time we have, even a minute of it and I lose you...If you walk away from me, I will die...but it will be the slow torture of loneliness and heartbreak."

She turned back to him. "Or perhaps my plane will crash and you will not have to worry about whether or not you are respons..."

She might as well have shot him through the heart.

He was out of the bed and grabbed her arm before she could finish. He swung her around and pulled her to him, locking his left arm around her body. He looked at her for the longest time before the light came on and he said, "Will you do something for me?"

"I will do anything."

"Play for me?"

"I...I am standing here, in nothing but your shirt...and you want me to play for you?"

He nodded slowly, still holding her, and said, "Later," while he unfastened the last of the three buttons remaining between him and...

_Home..._


	29. Part 1 - Chapter 29

**Part One – Chapter Twenty Nine:**

_**Thursday, November 20, 1997 – Washington D.C.** _

The late morning weather in D.C. was drizzle mixed with light snow and a promise of more of the same later in the day. Outside Rayburn House Office Building, Enos got out of the cab first, held the umbrella over Soonie as she stepped onto the sidewalk, and repositioned her coat around her shoulders, snugging the collar over her exposed neck. Although they had both grown up in climates where the cold can chill you to the bone, they had also both been living in California for more than ten years and the contrast seemed to be affecting Soonie more.

Since yesterday morning, when Enos awoke in Los Angeles with Soonie sleeping peacefully on the pillow next to him, they had poured over maps and timetables, laid out an agenda and itinerary for the next four days, gathered legal documents and made sure their passports were up to date, called to make an appointment with Cooter Davenport, packed at Soonie's apartment, made both short and long-term arrangements, packed at his apartment, and said goodbye to Mrs. Huang. Departing LAX late in the evening, they had slept only a little on the plane.

When they landed at Dulles, the first priority was to make an honest woman of Soonie. Not that Enos was feeling the least bit guilty. He wanted to make sure since they had already put the cart before the horse, there was a wedding band on her finger by the time they got back to their hotel room. Tomorrow morning when he woke, he would be looking into the eyes of his wife.

Since Virginia had no waiting period or blood test requirement, their first stop on the way to the Capitol was the City of Fairfax, Virginia to apply for their marriage license and make arrangements with an officiant to perform the ceremony later in the afternoon.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Enos and Soonie Had been waiting in the tiny anteroom of the office of Georgia's District 4 Congressman Ben Davenport for about twenty minutes. His administrative assistant had them penciled in and shared with them his loss to understand how they had managed it, what with his boss's busy schedule, and trying to wrap up before the Thanksgiving holidays.

Enos could hear Cooter's voice, and his distinct Georgia accent, in conversation with someone as he approached the open door to the office. From his tiny desk, the AA gathered a couple of portfolios and a stack of messages, ready to hand to the congressman as he passed through. When Cooter walked through the door, he paid little attention to his AA and lit up like a Christmas tree when he spotted Enos. Throwing out his right hand, he shook Enos's hand so vigorously it vibrated his whole body.

"Enos Strate, as I live and breathe. How the heck are ya'?"

"Doin' okay, Cooter. You're a sight for sore eyes too," Enos said, smiling broadly. He couldn't help letting out a high pitched hee-hee. "Hey, you look pretty good for sittin' behind a desk all day."

"Well, you know, I go to the gym now and again. What brings ya' to D.C? When Jamie here told me you said it was _imperative_ you see me _today_ , you coulda' knocked me over with a feather offa' Mizz Bunch's Banty rooster. I told him to clear my schedule so we could take time to visit."

"Don't have much time for visitin' Cooter. We got a lot to do and don't have a lot of time. I sure hope we're not takin' you away from somethin' important."

That's when Cooter realized Enos wasn't alone. "Course not," he said, looking back and forth between Enos and Soonie, the expression on his face a gigantic question mark.

"Cooter Davenport, I'd like you to meet Kyung-soon," Enos said, smiling proudly, "my wife."

Forget the question mark, Cooter was dumbstruck.

"Well, she will be by this afternoon anyway," Enos clarified.

Soonie put out her hand and Cooter took it, still trying to make heads or tails of what he'd heard. Had the world suddenly gone topsy-turvy?

"Cooter, I'd be much obliged if we could talk now. We've got a lot goin' on the next four days and we're eatin' up daylight."

"Sure, sure..." he said, letting go of Soonie's hand, still looking much like a curious puppy seeing something shiny for the first time.

Soonie let out a tiny muffled sneeze, prompting Enos to pull a tissue out of the travel pack in his overcoat pocket.

"You think I could get her a cup o' coffee, Cooter, or maybe some hot chocolate. She's been snifflin' ever since we landed."

"Jamie, could you get us all some coffee and bring it into the office?"

Soonie held up a hand and spoke softly to Enos. "I should stay out here and let you two talk. I think I would be a distraction."

She was right, of course. She was usually a distraction for him and it might be easier if he and Cooter talked alone. The subject of Daisy was bound to come up.

"You sure?"

"Yes. Perhaps I will explore the Capitol building. This is the first time I’ve been to Washington D.C."

"I don't want you wonderin' around out in this cold."

"Jamie," Cooter said, "Why don't you give...um...the future Mrs. Strate here a private tour? Take her through the underground pass, show her the Senate floor. First, make sure she gets somethin' warm to drink."

Before she left the office with the AA, Enos put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a gentle kiss on the temple. "I'll call you when we're done here. Won't take too long, then we can get somethin' to eat."

As Jamie led Soonie out the door, Cooter was still wondering if the sky was going to fall in on them any minute now and stole a quick glance out the window to see if pigs were flying.

~~~~~*~~~~~

In his private office, Cooter motioned for Enos to sit and then sat behind his mahogany desk. Before he took the chair opposite, Enos noticed a photo of the Hazzard County Garage, one of Uncle Jesse shelling peas on his front porch, and one of himself in the uniform of a Hazzard County Deputy along with Cooter, Daisy, Bo and Luke leaning against an orange Charger. There were others from Hazzard, and all of them were placed smack in the middle of twenty or so other framed photos of Cooter shaking hands with dignitaries and heads of state.

"How'd ya'll meet?" Cooter asked pointing with his thumb at the closed door, "You and K'yoon..."

Cooter had come closer than most trying to pronounce her given name. Enos chalked it up to having to relate to people from other countries. "Soonie. You can call her Soonie."

"How...where...? Do the folks back home know about...Soonie?"

"If you mean Daisy, she knows. Most of it anyway."

"I just never...I mean, it don't seem possible. I remember when..."

"Cooter, I'm real sorry. We don't have time to take a stroll down memory lane and I need you to keep this under your hat. I'll be sendin' Daisy a letter and some other stuff, but it's important you don't share too much right now, especially what I'm about to tell you. There's other people...innocent people...I don't wanna' put them in harm's way."

"Well, you did use the word 'imperative.'" Cooter said, settling back in his leather chair and running his hand through his hair as if smoothing his thick, graying mane would make the exchange less surreal. "Okay, Enos, whaddya need?"

Over the next hour, Enos explained what he could to Cooter, who listened in rapt attention with occasional slack-jawed interludes, to what had transpired over the past six months, up to the day he resigned from the LAPD. He did not tell him about his belief Kate was alive or his plan to find her. That was information Thompson would be sharing with the FBI on Monday, along with the complete file and detailed investigation notes he and Thompson had amassed.

"I need to find a good immigration attorney and I need to see somebody at Interpol before the weekend. Today if possible, tomorrow at the latest, at least where it concerns Interpol. Need to get the application process goin.'"

"Interpol?...You wanna' work for Interpol, here in Washington?"

"No, I want to work for Interpol at their office in Seoul."

Cooter blinked a couple of times. "As in South Korea?"

"That's the one."

Cooter blinked again and gave his head a quick shake to clear his mind and gather his thoughts. "You know it takes several months…"

"I know. So, I need to get it started now. I hate to ask for favors, Cooter, but I'm askin' anyway. Can't even promise it's gonna' be the last time."

"Enos, you may not be a constituent anymore, but you're still a neighbor and one o' the best friends I ever had. If it don't break the law or my oath as a public servant, I'll do whatever I can."

Cooter pulled out his Capitol Hill directory, found the number for the Attorney General's office, and picked up the receiver on his office phone. After he found the appropriate person, he listened to them for a couple of minutes, then, made arrangements for Enos at the D.C. office of Interpol for the next day. He replaced the receiver and chewed on his bottom lip for a few seconds.

"Apparently, somebody already faxed your CV, your service record, and five references to their office. One of them was from the Mayor of Los Angeles. They were waitin' for a call..."

He waited to see if Enos was going to comment. When he didn't, Cooter asked, "Who _are_ you...and what have you done with Enos Strate?"

"Still me, Cooter. Just all grown up and a whole lot wiser."

"Yeah, I can see that. So, why is it I think you're not tellin' me everything?"

"Someday me and you are gonna' hang our fishin' poles over Hazzard Pond and have a good long talk about it. Right now, I need you to trust me and to do somethin' for me while I'm gone."

Cooter studied Enos while he settled back into his chair and listened.

"There's gonna' be a bill comin' up before congress in the next coupla' years called the Victims of Trafficking and Violence Protection Act. The advocate committee in California's gonna' send you the research they been workin' on so far. I need you to sponsor it, or at least support it and get others to support it or do whatever it is you folks do to get bills passed. It needs to go through. It'll pave the way for federal funding for task forces all over the country and victim services havin’ to do with combattin' the domestic and international slave trade."

"So you're a lobbyist now?"

"Whatever it takes, Cooter. You in?"

"I'm familiar with the problem...and I take it you've got up close and personal experience with it?"

Enos gave him a solemn nod.

"You know I only got one more year in my elected term, right? If it's the one I been hearin' about, bills like this one take a while to get to the vote – especially if they involve a fair to middlin' chunk of the national budget. And I might not be here by the time it reaches the House."

"Then I'm hopin' you'll make sure you win the election."

"Now, that's a bit taller order than getting' you in the door with Interpol."

"You _are_ gonna' run again, aren't ya' Cooter? 'Cause we're countin' on ya.'"

"Well, then, I guess it's a good thing I already planned to go for another term, ain't it?"

It was the first time Enos smiled since he sat.

_**Sunday, November 23, 1997 – Los Angeles, California** _

'Crazy' Cooter had not only smoothed the way into the Interpol interview, he insisted some random officiate in Virginia wasn't good enough and arranged for Enos and Soonie to be married in Falls Church, VA with a minister officiating the ceremony. Cooter was one of the two witnesses. The other was the minister's wife.

If Soonie hadn't been feeling so under the weather, Cooter would have taken them out to dinner. But her cold deepened over the course of the afternoon and by the time they got back to the hotel in D.C., she was drinking over-the-counter cough syrup like it was going out of style. So Cooter arranged to get Soonie to a doctor on Friday while Enos was at the US National Central Bureau, headquarters of Interpol in the United States.

Friday evening, after Soonie was asleep, Enos finished the letter to Daisy and packed the box he'd brought with him to D.C.

By Saturday afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Strate were back in Los Angeles. Enos had spent the first three days of his marriage taking care of a sick wife and he was grateful for every snotty, sneezy minute of it.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Thompson stopped by early Sunday morning to bring the box of Enos's personal items from the office and to go over any new information about Kate which had come in since he and Soonie left for D.C. After he finished filling Enos in on what little new information there was, Thompson asked, "Kay feeling any better?"

"Yeah, the doc in D.C. gave her a prescription for the cold and somethin' to make her sleep. Said she mostly needs rest. He gave her some Dramamine to help her sleep on the plane. Said it would also help with the jet lag."

"Going to be a long flight to Seoul."

"Thirteen hours."

"Guess it's too late to talk you out of this?"

"Yep," Enos said in his best Thompson impersonation.

Thompson smiled in spite of his best efforts. "I suppose I had that coming."

"Yep."

"Okay, okay."

"You look a little green around the gills, Tommy, somethin' else on your mind?"

It was the first time Strate had called him that. Elektra called him Tommy all the time to needle him when their paths crossed while working with their respective teen programs. ' _Oh, well,'_ he thought, _'it was better than his other nickname, 'Eagle Eye' or Angela Kim's version, 'Double E.'_

Mallory had made Strate's suspension one week. He had made Thompson's stint with the high school cadet program a six-month gig. So far, it hadn't been all that terrible.

"I was wondering," he cleared his throat, "if you would mind if I asked Elektra out."

"You mean like...on a date?"

"Yep...yeah, on a date."

Enos thought about the implications for a few seconds with some amusement at Thompson's obvious discomfort.

"First off," he said, trying to get serious, "why are you askin' me? You asking' for my approval?"

Thompson took a deep breath.

"Yeah, I guess am." he sighed. It wasn't easy for him, especially since Strate seemed to be enjoying it a little too much.

"Even though I'm old enough, I'm not her Daddy."

"Maybe not, but she cares _a lot_ about what you think. And you and I didn't exactly get off on the right foot. If you remember, she had a front-row seat."

Enos wasn't sure how to react to being asked for parental approval. Although, if everything worked out with the custody proceedings, he would have to start getting used to having a daughter whose would-be beau might someday present him with the same kind of dilemma. He had become a husband and, for all intent and purpose, a father in the space of a few days.

After making Thompson wait a few more seconds and playing with his wedding ring, he said, "Then, I don't have a problem with it. But you get outta' line and I hear about it..."

"You'll kick my ass even if it gets you busted all the way back down to fetchin' Sheriff Coltrane's corn dogs. Yep. Got it."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Saying goodbye to Aaron took its toll.

Inez had resigned herself to E marrying Kay and giving up his badge. She was having a hard time with how Aaron was taking the news of what was going to happen next. When she picked up Aaron at LAX on Saturday morning and told him about his Uncle E going away for what may be a year, at least, he had become unusually quiet, almost sullen.

He'd wanted to ditch classes and jump on the first plane to L.A. when Inez called him to tell him what had happened Halloween night. She had managed to talk him out of it. She'd only called him so he wouldn't hear about it some other way. He talked to friends still in L.A. all the time, friends who knew how close he and his Uncle E were.

So, Enos took the time, while Soonie slept, to spend the rest of Sunday morning with Aaron. Sitting on the back steps adjacent to the driveway where they'd had many a game of H-O-R-S-E or Twenty-one, they talked about Aaron's college experience, the girl he was sort of seeing, the friends he had made – anything other than what was taking Uncle E away to a place situated only thirty-five miles from North Korea.

"It's not like I'm gonna' be gone forever," Enos told him. "Besides, you have school and a girlfriend to keep you busy. And baseball season will be here before ya' know it."

"And what's going to be keeping you busy?" Aaron asked.

Aaron took political science and was acutely aware of the climate between the two Koreas with Kim Jong Il's finger now on the nuclear button in North Korea. The fact still wasn't what most concerned the boy.

"I know you and Mom aren't telling me something. I'm not a kid anymore."

"I know you're not, and I'm real proud o' the man you turned out to be. There's some things I can't talk about right now. Your Mom understands."

"Yeah, _she_ probably does. Doesn't mean _I_ have to like it."

Inez had given them their space without interfering and only came out the back door when it was time to remind E he had to catch a plane in about four hours. So, she gave him a quick hug and let Aaron walk with him to his truck.

"We'll keep in touch. And I don't wanna' find out your grades are slippin' because you're spendin' too much time courtin.'"

Enos gave Aaron the usual bear hug and held on to it a little longer.

"No, Sir," Aaron said, gripping him a tighter. "Thanks for everything, Dad. I love you."

"...You're welcome, son. I love you too."


	30. Part 1 - Chapter 30

**Part One - Chapter Thirty:**

_**Monday, November 24, 1997 – Ha** **zzard, Georgia – Three days before Thanksgiving** _

The kitchen of the Duke farm was filled with the warm, comforting smells of pumpkin and spice. Doctor Daisy Duke's thoughts turned once again to Enos as she busied herself making the pies sold during the weekend bake sale to benefit the Hazzard County Children's Home.

Uncle Jesse walked over to the stove and sniffed. "Daisy, don't you think you better check the oven? I think them pies might be done."

"Oh, Lordy. I was daydreaming," she said, grabbing the potholders and quickly flipping open the oven door. "Whew. Saved 'em. Thanks, Uncle Jesse."

She put the pies on the cooling rack and wiped her forehead with the back of her arm.

"You been doin' a lot of woolgatherin’ ever since you got back from Los Angeles. And you still haven't said what went on out there between you and Enos. Or why I shouldn't say nothin' about you bein' there to anybody else."

She stirred a touch of allspice into the bowl filled with orange batter. "Just not ready to talk about it yet."

Jesse wanted to say something about Rosco's car being camped out at the end of the road every night for a week after she got home, but he held his tongue.

"You're a grown woman and you have a right to your privacy, but you been doin' more'n daydreamin.' Seems more like worryin' to me."

"Of course, I worry about him. He has a dangerous...," she said, knowing Uncle Jesse's mind was working out what she didn't finish.

She put a spoon in the batter and tasted it. "Uncle Jesse, could you hand me the cinnamon? I think it needs a tad more."

Jesse handed her the spice and said, "Okay, Daisy. If that's the way you want it, I won't ask." Then he opened the pantry and took out a loaf of bread. "Think I'll make some sandwiches for lunch. Bo and Luke oughta' be back soon with the part an' if we don't feed them boys somethin' you're gonna' come up missin' some pies."

Daisy had been avoiding a lot of Uncle Jesse's direct questions lately. She'd gotten better at it with practice and reminded herself to be more diligent about revealing certain information, especially the privileged kind, in the future.

"Oh, and Uncle Jesse, I hope you don't mind. I asked Annie Poe for Thanksgiving."

"Course I don't mind, Daisy. You know, I think Bo's kinda sweet on her. About time his taste in women started changin' for the better."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Bo and Luke were driving back to the Duke farm from town with a part for Uncle Jesse's aging tractor. Bo was still trying to decide if he wanted to follow the pro-circuit for the upcoming racing season. And Luke had told Uncle Jesse he was taking another breather from smoke jumping for the U.S. Forest Service when, in fact, he had some decisions he needed to make about his future – life-altering kinds of decisions.

"You know," Bo said, as he took the next hill with a bounce, nearly sending Luke into the headliner, "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"I know, and I don't intend to either."

"You know you'll feel better if you get it off your chest."

"Bo, I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay, okay. Just tryin' to lend my experienced opinion."

"You ain't got experience in this, so butt out."

Luke had taken Daisy's advice and told Sophie how he felt, and how scared he was. He still hadn't been able to bring the hammer down on a commitment, or the responsibility. Before he came back to Hazzard for the holidays, Sophie had given him an ultimatum. She had her children to think of and if he couldn't stand up and make a decision about them, then he should not come around anymore. So, he had come home to think about it. To decide if the fear he was second-choice for her, or that she couldn't love him as much as she had loved her husband, or if he could not be the father her kids needed…

"Aren't we touchy today?"

Without warning, Luke yelled, "Truck!" and Bo swerved to miss the slow-moving pickup Alvin Dobbins used for his UPS deliveries.

Alvin waved as they passed and yelled after them, "Welcome home, boys, see ya'll in a little while."

"What'd he say?" Bo asked Luke.

"I dunno. Couldn't hear it over the engine."

"Ye-haaa," Bo yelled and took the next turn at ninety.

After leaving Alvin in their dust, Bo had the car so revved up they missed Sheriff Rosco's cruiser parked behind some thicket. By the time they registered the fact they had seen him, they were an orange blur.

"Uh oh," Luke said. "Home one day and Rosco's already after our hides."

Bo floored the accelerator. After a few seconds, Luke noticed Rosco's car had not come out of where it had been parked.

"That's weird," said Luke. "You reckon he's okay? Maybe we ought to go back and check."

"Are you crazy?"

"No, I'm not crazy. Rosco's not a spring chicken anymore, maybe he had a heart attack or somethin'."

By the time they had turned the car around and reached the hidey-hole where Rosco had secreted himself, Rosco's car was gone.

"Looks like he's alive and kickin'" said Bo. "Let's go. Uncle Jesse and Daisy probably have lunch ate and are puttin' away the leftovers by now. I'm starved."

"You just want to sample some of them pumpkin pies Daisy's bakin.'"

"Yeah, maybe," Bo said, smiling from ear to ear. "Hey, Daisy seem a little off to you since we been home?"

"We only been home one day, Bo. But now you mention it, yeah, a little," Luke said, then braced for the jerk he knew would be coming when Bo put the car into hyper-drive.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Rosco P. Coltrane, having left Flash in the car comfortably snoozing on the Los Angeles Times, shook off the late November chill as he stood on the porch of the Duke house, horrendously distraught about knocking on the door. He procrastinated by dusting off the gaudy, tasseled epaulets on his shoulders and straightening his gun holster for the third time. Rosco would rather cut off his right arm than to ask the Dukes for anything. He knew Daisy was home and if anyone knew about Enos, it would be her. She'd probably kill him for it, but he was beside himself. He had set in his car in the speed trap, discussing the pros and cons with Flash for nearly twenty minutes.

At last, he decided he had to do something and knocked.

"Oh, it's you," Jesse said through the screened door. "What do you want, Rosco?" He eyed Rosco suspiciously.

"That'll be Sheriff or Boss Rosco to you," Rosco said, purely out of habit.

"What d'ya want _Sheriff_ Rosco?"

"Now, Uncle Jesse, I'm not here to make trouble. Can I come in?"

"I ain't your Uncle. But I guess you can come in."

Knowing nothing good could come of it, Jesse opened the door wider to let Rosco through. He didn't know exactly what Rosco and Daisy had had their heads together about over the last six months. Rosco coming to call wasn't a portent of something good in any case.

When he was inside, they heard the General skid to a dusty stop in front of the house. Luke and Bo burst through the door, both talking at once, and demanded to know what the Sam hill he wanted. Uncle Jesse raised his hand to stay the onslaught.

"Well, say what you got to say, Sheriff. We got lunch ready," Jesse said.

"Now, Jesse, like I said, I'm not here to make any trouble. In fact…I…I'm here cause…well…I'm here cause I think a mutual friend of ours is in trouble. At least I'm afraid he is."

"You got no friends, Rosco, mutual or otherwise, sides Boss Hogg and he's been gone three years."

"Well, I do too. He calls me once a month to say hey and catch up on all the Hazzard gossip…septin' that first month…" Rosco's voice trailed off and then picked back up again, "…and he sends me a Christmas present every year… last year he sent Flash one o' them boo-teek gourmet bones and he sent me a cap personally autographed by Bruce Willis, cause he was a technical advisor on that movie and all…an…an he…"

"You talkin' about Enos Strate?" Luke interjected.

"Course I was talkin' about Enos. Who else you think I know in Los Angeles?"

"You didn't say the friend you was talkin' about was from…Wait, Enos calls you _every_ month?" Bo said incredulously, looking at Luke.

"Yes, he does, he calls me every month without fail, 'cause he's a true and loyal friend, not like the rest of you Dukes."

Rosco smelled the fragrance of baking pumpkin and reckoned Daisy was in the kitchen listening. With Daisy in the house, he didn't dare divulge all the reasons he was talking to Enos every month, who he had picked up from the airport or the phone call, instructions, he'd received from his former deputy three weeks ago.

"Rosco, you know Enos ain't really a Duke, right?" asked Luke, tempted to snap his fingers in front of Rosco to wake him from his trance.

"Well, he might as well be. All the times he circumvented me when he was a Deputy to keep your awnry law breakin' hides outta' jail."

"Circumvented…That's a pretty big word Rosco, you think you might need to take a rest after strainin' your brain so much?" Bo said, turning to Luke. "But, he's right, Luke, Enos did save our collective bacon more'n a few times."

"Now ya'll are funnin' an' I'm bein' dead serious."

"You aren't funnin' are you?" asked Luke. The look on Rosco's face confirmed it.

"You heard from him?" Rosco asked the group.

"I haven't heard from him," Bo said, "You Luke?"

"No, haven't talked to Enos in more than six months."

Uncle Jesse shook his head, although he knew Daisy had talked to Enos.

Daisy left the kitchen and appeared in the parlor. "Why do you think Enos is in trouble, Rosco?" she asked him, with undisguised concern in her voice. Images of the last time she had seen Enos in L.A. flashed through her mind.

"Oh, hey, Daisy. I saw your motorcycle out there, figured you were here. Pies smell good." Rosco looked as if he was struggling to get it out. "You haven't by any chance heard from Enos have ya'?"

"Rosco! Are we gonna have to snatch you bald-headed to get it out of you?" Uncle Jesse said, trying to redirect the conversation.

"Well," Rosco said, "he didn't call me on my birthday and he calls me every year for the last eleven years…'cept this year."

It sounded feeble even to Rosco. It was not exactly the truth…not exactly a lie either. He couldn't think of anything else he could use as an excuse for being worried without revealing what little he knew about what was going on out in L.A and how worried Enos was it would spill over into Hazzard. Enos had called him nearly every day in the last three weeks. Then it was radio silence since Wednesday. Rosco was worried even though the dipstick had told him he'd be out of pocket for a few days.

"Your birthday was only two days ago. He probably just got busy. Why are you all of a sudden gettin' worried?" asked Luke.

"Cause…Cause when he didn't call, I tried to call him after I knew he'd be off-duty, and there's no answer at that itty-bitty place he calls an apartment – just keeps goin' to the answer machine. And he hasn't returned any o' the messages I left."

"Well, that doesn't mean anything," Luke said. "Weren't you the one who told us last Christmas he does a lot of volunteer work, especially around the holidays."

"I called the community center and talked to some volunteer. He said Enos got a substitute to fill in for him for the next couple of months. That was a week ago an' they haven't seen hide nor hair o' him since."

"Well, call that Metro station he works out of and find out what's goin' on."

"You don't think I already tried that?" Rosco said, grinding his teeth and grumbling the way only Rosco P. Coltrane could. "Didn't do no good. I got routed hither and yon and ended up talkin’ to some paper pusher tellin' me they don't give out information about LAPD personnel."

"Hey, Daisy, you still got Turk's number?" Luke asked.

Daisy didn't get a chance to answer. Rosco turned his attention to Bo, Luke, and Jesse. "I don't think that's gonna do no good. Turk's headin' up a narcotics task force. No tellin' where he's at…an' Enos…well, he ain't exactly at Metro anymore."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Luke.

"He still works with Metro. It's just detectives, they have their own division."

"Enos made detective? When did this happen?" Luke was confused.

"Passed his exam more'n a year ago."

"A year. You mean he had his detective badge when he came back to the reunion? Why didn't he say anything?" asked Bo.

"Well, now that part's a little hard to explain. I'm thinkin' it was gonna be a surprise, you know, for after the weddin'…" Since he was treading in dangerous territory, Rosco avoided eye contact with Daisy – she knew Enos was a detective. "After everything that happened at the reunion an all…" Rosco hem hawed by playing with the brim of his hat. "I only found out…well, it don't matter how I found…he made me promise not to say anything, not even to his folks."

Silence. Especially in Daisy who was still replaying images of fiery crashes, trauma units, and bloody clothes in her head.

"That boy's been hidin' his light under a bushel basket since he was knee-high to a grasshopper," said Uncle Jesse.

Rosco thought, ' _Ya'll don't know the half of it.'_

"See, that's what I'm talkin' about. You know what I think, I think they got him undercover." Rosco said. "That's what I think. An' the boy's not made for undercover work, no sir – he's too honest for one thing. He might be able to keep secrets, but he can't tell a bare-faced lie to save his pea pickin' soul. And that's a fact."

"Undercover. Rosco, you don't know what you're takin' about," said Luke.

"There's not any other explanation for it," Rosco said, then looked at Daisy.

"Be that as it may," said Uncle Jesse, "we can't go interferin' in LAPD business. And, Sheriff or no Sheriff, neither can you."

"What if something terrible happened to him and they can't tell anyone until they tell his folks..." Daisy said, dropping onto the chair next to the phone with a sudden intake of air she couldn't seem to exhale. "You said it yourself, Luke. Enos isn't really a Duke."

Her voice became faint and distant. "We're not – family."

 _His 'family' was in L.A._ She knew now that Enos had listed Turk as the first contact for notification, and might have changed since...She could only hope Kay would notify them and since neither she nor Inez had called, there was still hope.

Then, Rosco did something contrary to everything anyone in the room expected and he moved to stand by Daisy's side. When he put his hand on her shoulder and patted it gently, she took hold of it and squeezed. Being their secret keeper had been exhausting for poor old Rosco.

Daisy and Rosco both nearly jumped out of their skins when the phone rang next to her.

Luke picked up the receiver. "Cooter Davenport, how are ya? Haven't talked to you in a coon's age." After a few seconds, Luke's smile flattened and he held out the phone, "Daisy, he wants to talk to you."

"Ya see," Rosco whispered, "I called Cooter when I couldn't get anything outta the LAPD. I figured they couldn't give a Congressman the runaround."

Jesse looked at Rosco like he had two heads. "Put it on speaker, honey, so we can all hear."

After getting the okay from Daisy, Luke pressed the speaker button.

"Hey, Cooter." Daisy was barely able to get those two words out.

"Hey, Daisy. How you been, darlin'?"

Rosco, Bo, Luke, and Jesse all started to talk at once. Uncle Jesse played the patriarch card and won the toss. "Daisy's fine, Cooter. You callin' to say hey to everybody for Thanksgivin' or is there somethin' else on your mind?"

"Cooter, has something happened to Enos?" Daisy asked. Her heart was pounding. She was as scared as she had been walking through the corridors of the trauma unit at Cedars.

"Dang you, Rosco. Now Daisy, don't get all worked up. He's alright."

"Cooter, you wouldn't be shinin' us on to spare us or…"

"Yeah, Daisy, I'm sure."

"Rosco, you scared the livin' daylights out of me!"

Daisy sighed with relief and punched Rosco twice in the arm as hard as she could, hard enough he winced and started rubbing it. He was so grateful the dipstick was okay, considering what he knew, he didn't protest.

Luke leaned in and asked, "So Cooter, why won't the LAPD tell Sheriff Rosco anything?"

"Cause it's a hard and fast policy they take real serious. Somethin' _the Sheriff_ ought to know." Cooter said. "Ya'll got no idea how many crank calls and downright threats they get on a daily basis. A healthy dose of paranoia is what keeps those people alive…Besides, I know he's alright because I talked to him myself yesterday afternoon."

"Yesterday?" Rosco blurted out. "Yesterday! Why didn't you tell me that when I talked to you not more'n two hours ago?"

Cooter ignored Rosco's question and instead asked, "Daisy, I take it you haven't got a letter yet? It shoulda' been delivered by now."

There was a knock on the door. Bo went to answer it and found Alvin Dobbins standing on the porch with a cake box sized package in his hand.

"Sorry, ya'll, this was supposed to be delivered early this morning but it got routed to the wrong truck in Capital City, so I didn't get it till this morning an' then, after ya'll passed me I had a flat an' it took me an extra half hour to get back on the road."

Bo reached out for the package.

"It's addressed to Daisy, Bo. I can't give it to just anybody," Alvin said.

"Since when was I just anybody, Alvin? And Daisy's sittin' right there where you can see her."

Alvin saw Daisy and tipped his hat before he handed the box over. It was a little heavier than Bo had expected.

When Bo saw the sender's name, he handed it to Daisy to take and said to the phone, "Cooter, Daisy got a box. Don't look like a letter. Says it's from Enos, though. Can we call you back?"

"Sure Bo."

"Wait. Cooter, why all the cloak and dagger?" Luke asked before Cooter could hang up.

"There's no cloak and dagger, Luke. Enos asked me to expedite some things for him and I was happy to oblige."

"What things?" Bo and Luke asked in unison.

"Ya'll, he didn't give me leave to say anymore. I'm guessin' it's all in the letter. It wasn't supposed to be any big mystery, either. It just never occurred to anybody that Rosco'd go calling _everybody_ on God's green earth and stirrin' up a ruckus. I had a devil of a time convincin' the LAPD he wasn't some kind of homegrown terrorist."

Meanwhile, Daisy had opened the box and found, on top, a letter addressed simply 'To Daisy.'

Rosco looked sheepish. "Well, why didn't you tell me that this mornin'?"

"Maybe 'cause they didn't think it was any o' your business," said Uncle Jesse. "Now why don't you just git over there outta the way and let Daisy read her letter."

Rosco was contrite and relieved enough not to complain.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Daisy left her puzzled cousins, a more than concerned uncle, and a fidgety sheriff staring at her from the bottom of the stairs as she carried the box and the letter to her room.

Safely tucked away, at least temporarily, from the curiosity of her family, Daisy sat on the edge of her bed staring at the box and the envelope on top.

She set the envelope aside. From the slight bulge, she knew what was inside. Putting off the inevitable, she drew out the last bundle of un-mailed letters from Enos...all thirty-two of them and started to read about...

...the week after Turk came to Hazzard to convince him to go back to L.A., the two weeks after he met Kate, the six weeks after the accident that sent Inez to the ICU and made him uncle to an eleven-year-old boy, the two weeks he spent back in Hazzard pining over what she had done to her life by marrying L.D., the two weeks after he was shot, the week he made detective...

...the day he picked up the engagement ring and met...her. Daisy wondered if he knew what he had actually written between those lines.

It was only then she opened the envelope she has set aside.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Leaving the second page of the letter, the ring, and a thin book, in the secret cubbyhole of the chifforobe, Daisy took the first page of the letter, the box and the rest of its contents downstairs. Uncle Jesse and her cousins were in the kitchen preparing supper.

"Sorry," she said. "I guess I lost track of time."

"Never mind worryin' about us, Daisy."

"Thanks, Uncle Jesse," she said, still cradling the box in her arms. "Rosco go back to the station?"

"Nope," said Luke, "he's sinttin' out there on the front porch in the swing. Refuses to leave."

"Maybe he's waitin' ta' be asked for dinner," Bo quipped.

"Then ya'll better make enough, 'cause he's stayin.'" She didn't wait for a reply or a protest and headed out the front door.

"Told you she was actin' weird," Bo said.

"No," Luke replied, "You said she seemed a little off."

"Well, ain't it the same thing?"

"No, it ain't the same thing."

Uncle Jesse held up the wooden spoon he was using to stir the beans and shook it at them. "If you two don't stop jawin' and help me git supper ready..."

"Okay, Uncle Jesse," Luke said, swaying out of the way of the spoon, "You can put that thing away, we can take a hint."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Daisy sat next to Rosco on the swing. He had retrieved Flash from the cruiser and was stroking the ears of the droopy-eyed hound. Daisy put the box on the porch floor in front of him, and took Flash onto her lap.

"Oooohh. Be careful, Daisy? Flash is gettin' on up there, ya' know. Gotta be real gentle cuz he's real sensitive. Arncha' my..."

"I'll be careful, Rosco," she said, pointing at the box. "That's for you. For your birthday."

"For me? I thought he sent it to you."

"Then why'd you wait out here all this time if you didn't think there was somethin' in it for you? Well, aren't you gonna' to open it?"

"Course I'm gonna open it."

He was still eyeing the box suspiciously. Never could tell what that lug nut would do nowadays. Callin' him an' practically givin' him orders and such...

Still, he gingerly picked it up like it was going to explode with those snakes-in-a-can that fly out and scare the dickens out of you.

Inside, he found a neatly folded LAPD dress uniform blouse with a nametag over the right breast pocket that read "E. Strate' and enough ribbons pinned over the left breast pocket to decorate for the Fourth of July, a ball cap with SWAT emblazoned across the crown, eight medal presentation cases and various citation documents.

He opened the cases one by one and ran his fingers down the ribbons and over the metal medallions dangling from each, lingering over the medal in the largest case.

"Daisy girl. Do you know what this one's for? It's for..."

She put her hand on his and closed the case. "I know what it's for, Rosco." She smiled at him, then put her head on his shoulder and they sat there, swinging slowly, until Bo came out on the porch and called them for supper.

"She is definitely actin' weird," he muttered to himself as he followed them into the house. "Real weird."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Daisy assigned Rosco the seat next to hers, fussing over him like he was royalty and him eating it up, and across from open-mouthed Bo and Luke. Cooter didn't have the market cornered on dumbstruck. Uncle Jesse took his usual seat at the head of the table, somewhat less baffled and trying to be nonchalant, still wondering when they were gonna' be hit with the Paul Harvey moment. He could feel it in his bones.

Daisy pretended not to notice and busied herself setting out the large bowl of crowder peas with ham hocks, a bowl of mashed potatoes, fresh-baked bread, and a warm pumpkin pie.

She smiled sweetly and waited until their plates were nearly empty before she said, "I know ya'll are chompin' at the bit to find out what this is all about..."

All activity related to eating ceased, although Rosco sneaked in one more bite of ham hock. They were listening.

"First, I have to tell you a story."

~~~~~*~~~~~

After glossing over the confidential information, graphic detail, and downright secrets, it was a short story. The only one at the table who found his voice was Rosco. 

"South Koh-reeya! Thunder and tarnation. Always knew there was somethin' wrong with that boy. Has the dipstick done lost his pea pickin' mind? What the blazes is he doin' in South Koh-reeya?"

"Probably havin' breakfast with his wife."

~~~~~*~~~~~

"That was some important information to be leavin' out, doncha' think?" Bo had said, with indignant consternation.

Daisy hadn't known herself they were married until she read the first page of the letter. _Guess it wasn't complicated after all._

She related only the bare bones basics about the woman who was now Mrs. Enos Strate; born in South Korea, American citizen, worked for her uncle's accounting firm, played the violin, they met at a fancy dress soiree, and they were trying to adopt Soonie's niece – period. Anything else was too tangled up with everything else in Enos's life right now. You pretty much had to 'be there.'

The fact Enos was married to someone other than Daisy, although few in Hazzard had ever thought that would ever happen either, still eclipsed the fact he had quit the LAPD and would be living seven thousand miles away. The very notion was absurd. The news had spread like a wildfire in the San Fernando Valley, with Daisy encouraging Rosco to fuel the flames as much as he could. Everyone should think Enos had lost his mind when he lost his heart and had given up everything to be with his new wife. To a certain extent, it was the truth. Living in Korea would get them closer to getting custody of little Gem. It wasn't the whole truth. Only a few people on the planet knew the whole truth and Daisy felt it a privilege, along with the responsibility, to be one of them. She had her role to play.

Bo's reaction had not been much different than anyone else's at the supper table on Monday evening, except he was convinced the tale needed to be retold – again and again. Luke was the silent one. He said nothing about it and sat on the front porch, long after everyone had gone to bed before he made the call that would change _his_ life.


	31. Part 1 - Chapter 31

**Part One - Chapter Thirty One:**

_**Hazzard, Georgia - Thanksgiving Day, 1997** _

Life moves on and so does Hazzard; Thanksgiving Day chores beckoned. Company was coming.

Luke had gone out early in the morning without telling anyone where he was going. When he arrived at the farm again mid-morning, accompanied by Sophie and her children, Caleb who was eight and Emily who had recently turned five, his introduction nearly obliterated the news about Enos. Now Bo would have a new story to tell.

Even Bo was silenced, and suddenly on his best behavior, when Annie Poe, casserole dish in hand, appeared at the front door with Rosco P. Coltrane on her right, Cooter Davenport on her left and Flash waddling on into the house like he belonged there.

"We found this pretty little thing walkin' on the road," Cooter said, beaming. "When she said she was headed here for Thanksgivin' dinner..."

"See, her car broke down 'bout half mile down the road, so Flash an' me said she should ride with us...kew, kew." Rosco cut in.

"You did not. Didn't see her 'til I told you."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Ooo...You..." Rosco mangled his mouth and stuck out his chin to Cooter. "You think you're the beez knees since you been up there in Washington rubbin' elbows with all them grafttin..."

Uncle Jesse rolled his eyes. "Cooter! Rosco!"

They said in unison, "Yes, sir." Rosco juggled to catch his hat when it flew out of his hand and before it landed on the floor.

Taking Annie's arm, Jesse led her away from the bickering twins. He patted her forearm and whispered, "Don't' worry, darlin' we'll set you far away from them two yahoos."

"I don't mind, Mr. Duke. They are both very sweet."

"Miss Annie," he said, scratching his head, "I don't believe I ever heard Sheriff Rosco described as 'sweet' b'fore."

Daisy waited until Annie and Uncle Jesse made it into the parlor before she grabbed Rosco around the neck and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"I saved the turkey neck just for you," she said.

"Oh, Daisy, thank you. You know, ooo, you've always been my favorite Duke. Hey, Cooter, did you know Daisy's got Doctor in fronta' her name now?" Rosco blushed and tittered as she led him into the parlor.

Cooter's eyes widened and he sneaked a peek out the window for those porcine aviators that hadn’t shown up in D.C.

~~~~~*~~~~~

"Daisy," Bo said when he pulled her aside, "What's _she_ doin' here?"

"What's _who_ doin' here. You mean Sophie? Weren't you listening when Luke said they were gettin' married, Bo?"

"Not Sophie. _Her_...Annie."

"Not sure. Wait. I bet it's because she was invited." Daisy was enjoying this.

"Well, who in tarnation invited her?" He tried to keep his voice low.

"I did." Daisy gave him a mischievous smile and was already walking into the kitchen with Bo following close behind, trying not to draw attention to the fact he was practically chasing her.

"Wha'd ya' go an' do that for?"

"Why shouldn't I and what's it to you if I asked Annie to come for Thanksgiving?"

"I, well, I..."

"I, well, I...you havin' trouble with your words today Bo?" Ignoring his silent, red-faced protest, she called into the parlor, "Hey, everybody, dinner's ready!"

~~~~~*~~~~~

About halfway through the meal, Rosco got up from the table. "Ya'll don't go anywhere, cuz' I got somethin' I gotta' get out o' my cruiser." He looked at Flash. "Now, you mind they don't go anywhere, Flash. I'm gonna' be back with a surprise. Kew, kew."

"Wonder what he's up to?" Luke said, and then turned to Sophie to explain, "Ain't nothin' good ever come of Rosco's surprises."

"Well, don't you worry, Luke," Daisy said, patting him on the shoulder, "for a change, it's nothin' to fret about unless you wanna go and pretty up or something."

"Huh?"

Rosco came back into the room with a hand-held camcorder protruding from his face and waving his left arm like he was Cecil B. DeMille. "Now, when I say 'action' ya'll say 'Hey.'"

"Rosco, what the heck are you doin'?" Uncle Jesse said.

"I'm recordin' this for posterity...well, an' for the dipstick..." Daisy gave him a look. She'd already taken him to task for the 'dipstick' remarks. "I mean Enos," he corrected himself. "See he gave me this for my birthday. That's why the box was so heavy, ya' see. It was way down at the bottom under all those...Well, it was under other stuff..."

Sophie's son, Caleb, who, in contrast to his vocal sister, had been quietly withdrawn through most of the meal, got up, and studied the camera with great interest.

Rosco showed him the viewscreen and said, "See...Don't need none o' them cassettes nor nothin.' This here's state o' the art technology. They call this a proto-type 'cause it ain't out on the market yet. Tell you what, you take the camera...and use that button right there. That's the one and I'll go over there and say hey to the dip...Enos."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Rosco had exhausted himself and picked up Flash to leave, _'cause he was havin' Thanksgiving dinner with Lulu and Mama.'_ Everyone else was lounging around the parlor or on the porch in a tryptophan coma when Daisy disappeared into her bedroom.

When she came back carrying two packages, one gift wrapped, the other wrapped in one of Uncle Jesse's bandanas, she found Bo and Annie sitting in the front porch swing. Bo immediately sprang to his feet like he'd been shot from Hazzard's memorial cannon.

"Uh, hey, Daisy," he said. "You fixin' to runin' away from home?"

Daisy was confused at first then realized he was pointing at the bandana wrapped package. She smiled. Wearing one of Uncle Jesse's old cardigans, the one with pockets that hung nearly to mid-thigh, she _did_ look like all she needed was a long stick and the hobo couture would be complete.

"Bo, mind if I steal a few minutes with Annie? You know, girl talk," she said, sticking her hands in the sweater pocket.

"Course I don't, we got football to watch anyway." Though he was a little flustered, he couldn't help looking at Annie and saying, "Glad you could come to dinner. Maybe we'll run into each other again sometime." And then he went back into the house.

Daisy couldn't help staring. Annie was about her height with short, strawberry blonde hair and piercing green eyes. Sitting next to her on the swing, Daisy handed Annie the package she had wrapped in some gift paper.

"What's this?"

"It’s something sent by a special friend. Go ahead, open it."

"Your friend won't mind?"

"No, he won't mind. You being a librarian and all, it was meant for you and I'm not a real Poe fan. My tastes run more to Charlotte Brontë."

Annie looked a little confused but took the paper off anyway.

"Considering your choices at the library," she said, "it doesn't surprise me."

"I think maybe you'll like the poem on page forty-three the best," Daisy said, squeezing Annie's hand. "Thanks for comin' for dinner, Annie. Hope we can see more of you in the future."

While Annie explored the book of poetry, Daisy picked up the hobo bundle and set out toward the stream.

After Daisy was out of sight, Bo returned to the porch and found Annie with her head bent over the open book and tears on her cheeks. She closed it when he sat next to her. "Annie, what's wrong? Did Daisy say somethin' to upset you?"

Annie smiled at him through happy tears. "No. Just the opposite."

Bo was both elated and terrified when she leaned in and put her head on his shoulder.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Nearly halfway around the world, Enos and Soonie were waking up to sunrise when Daisy reached the bank of the stream running behind the farm in Hazzard. It was less than a mile from the house, so the walk there, although brisk, gave her more time for mind wanderings.

One of the larger flat-topped stones offered a perch on which she could breathe in the crisp, clean air. She would only be able to enjoy this peace for a few more months before she would be living in North Atlanta, working on an environmental research project at Emory University.

Kneeling on the stone, she put her hand in the stream to feel the flow of cold water through her fingers. The last time she'd been here, she'd told Uncle Jesse her love for Enos when she was sixteen 'was the most real and true thing she'd had in her life before or since.' It was truer now than ever before, just not in the way either of them had imagined back then.

There are matches made in heaven, loves which last a lifetime, and the " _I shall but love thee better after death"_ kinds of love. And then, there was the Enos and Daisy kind of love that defied definition.

Back on the bank, she drew a box of matches from the pocket of her sweater and laid the package on the ground next to some stones previously used for a fire pit. After digging a little trench, she lined up some tiny tinder sticks over it, then added a layer of small kindling. She lit the match under the stack and, one by one, burned the missing letters.

The rest would be burned later, all four hundred and seventy-six of them. She didn't need anything written on paper to remember. She would remember every word. But this one, the last one, the one rolled into a scroll with a diamond ring to bind it together, she couldn't give up. It was the key she had needed – it told her she could let go and move on.

When she returned to the house, everyone had gone. Bo had driven Annie home because it was nearly dark, Cooter had gone on earlier to see his family, and Luke had gone back to the motel to stay with Sophie and her kids. Only Uncle Jesse was still at home, napping in the parlor.

Although she had wanted to talk to him, she didn't want to disturb his rest. He called to her as started up the stairs.

"Daisy, is that you?"

"Yes, Uncle Jesse." Daisy walked into the parlor and sat next to him on the sofa.

"You smell like smoke, baby girl. What have you been up to?"

"I was down at the stream and built a little fire to keep warm."

"Nights are startin' to git colder. Glad you had the sense to come back b'fore dark."

She put her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. After a few minutes until Jesse asked, "You ever gonna tell me what's really goin' on?"

"Someday, Uncle Jesse," she said. "Right now, I need you to trust me and not ask questions I can't answer."

"Can't or won't?"

"Both. But there is something I can tell you. Something Enos wanted you to know that I didn't tell the others."

"What's is it, sweet girl?"

"He found the place where Uncle Jamie might be buried and he's going to visit there as soon as he can."

Daisy left Uncle Jesse in the kitchen making a pot of coffee and went to her room knowing he was thinking about his younger brother, James, who joined the army and was sent to Korea in 1950…and never came home.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Opening the chifforobe, she shoved her underwear off the slats on the bottom. Covering it with her unmentionables was how she used to keep the boys from getting too curious until they got older and she had to start locking her door. Now, it was merely a habit. She slid one of the slats across another to reveal her secret hiding place. Before depositing the letter and the ring into their makeshift time capsule, she un-scrolled the letter and read it again. With Dolly singing in her ear, she said one last goodbye to the past and whispered...

" _I will always love you too, Enos. Always."_


	32. Part 1 - Chapter 32

**Part One - Chapter Thirty Two:**

_**Los Angeles International Airport (LAX)** _

The last 'so long' had been to Turk at LAX. He had driven Enos and Soonie so he could take the truck back to storage at his house. Enos hadn't expected it to be much of a goodbye, they rarely said the words to each other. The nature of Turk's work took him undercover a lot and now, he was so deeply involved in the drug task force, they had less time to spend hanging out. And then there was Soonie. When he thought Daisy was the only woman for him, he had plenty of time. When Soonie came along...well, things changed. So they had not seen much of each other in the past six months.

"Ya' know, Buddy-roe, when we come back, I expect to see a wedding band on Shawnee's left hand." Enos proudly pointed to the fourth finger on his left hand and added, "We all have to go some time."

"I'll think about it. Now you two better get on the plane before it leaves you."

And for the first time in nearly seventeen years, Turk Adams hugged his best friend, his brother, as if he might never see him again.

_**Somewhere over the Pacific Ocean** _

Benjamin Enos Strate was born on April 2, 1952 in the year of the Dragon. At least, that's what Momo Soon-hee had told him while giving him a crash course in Korean etiquette during their three-hour layover at the San Francisco airport.

" _Number One: Prepare to do a lot of bowing...head tilting when greeting, when taking leave, or when saying 'gamsahabnida' (thank you)...And there are rules for how deeply to bow, depending on the circumstances... the lower you bow, the more respect you show. A forty-five-degree bow is for apologizing and held for a few counts. If your offense is egregious, the bow should be deeper and held longer. Deeper bowing, with hands at the side or crossed in front of you, shows a greater level of respect. The deep bow with hands crossed over the forehead_ [he forgot what she called it] _is reserved for much more formal greetings, like when meeting your future in-laws."_

There were also occasions for kneeling bow. Momo had said since _"this is usually performed by the groom to the bride's parents at the wedding, that ship has sailed."_

Enos had no problem with showing respect. He was from a culture where not saying 'sir' or 'ma'am' to your elders could earn you a swat with a rolled-up newspaper or a razor strop.

" _Number Two: You should not make a direct refusal...of anything...it should always be accomplished indirectly, and a gift should be rejected, also indirectly, several times before it is accepted."_

Neither sounded too far from plain old-fashioned politeness to Enos.

" _There are different rules for handing someone something and for receiving something. Give and receive with both hands – it is rude to give or receive one-handed...Money exchange should always be put into an envelope, and again, be handed to the other person with both hands."_

There was something else, but it escaped him at the moment.

" _Carry business cards or name cards – you will be asked, and it shows respect if you already understand. Always present them with both hands."_

" _Strong handshakes are a no-no, weak handshakes are okay. And everyone will want to know your age, or more precisely, the year you were born, so they know whether to address you formally or informally according to your age. It also tells them if you are a rabbit or a rat...or a dragon."_

All in all, he believed, possibly naively he admitted to himself, he could adapt. He had some experience adapting to a different cultural mindset and rules. So, he didn't anticipate it should be too difficult. It was the kneeling bow to Soonie's father Soonie had neglected to tell him about, and they had circumvented, that had him worried.

And, also, drinking. He was told the rigid socially acceptable standards often required tempering with alcohol, in copious amounts. Soonie drank. He didn't, and it was not something he planned to negotiate. Momo had said, _"there are ways to get around it but you will need to navigate those on a case-by-case basis."_

After she finished, she presented him with a book on the Korean Language and one called _Korean Etiquette in a Nutshell_ – it was two inches thick. It made him smile when he thought of trying to teach Los Angeles culture and societal norms to the folks back in Hazzard. Or vice versa. It could fill volumes.

Momo had also told him, not only was he born in the year of the Dragon, his element was Water. Soonie was born in the year of the Ox and her element was Metal. He wasn't at all sure how the Water Dragon fit him. The Metal Ox surely fit his wife.

Over the past four or five months, Soonie had told him a little about Korean social standards without providing much detail because she hadn’t expected to be tied to those particular social norms again. Her aunt, Soon-hee, although she had embraced western culture and adopted American customs long ago, was careful to observe the cultural customs and practices of her native South Korea whenever she visited or when with family or Korean friends in the U.S. With exception of her sister's daughter, Kyung-soon, who had refused to adhere to tradition because she had not intended to return to Korea, at least not for any length of time.

Soonie was repulsed by the thought of being referred to by her father's surname instead of Strate. In Korea, women did not take their husband's surname as a matter of practice. It wasn't a law, but a woman taking her husband's surname was just not done. She stubbornly intended to refer to herself as Kyung-soon Strate and that was the end of it. She was going to have to suffer enough indignities as it was without relinquishing what, to her, was now sacrosanct – and, if nothing else, a matter of principle.

This new direction both their lives were taking was bound to be harder on her than it was likely to be on him. He was only ignorant. She was straight up rebellious and dug in like a tick. He hoped it was the head cold making her so adamant because it was likely not to win them any points with her father.

Enos shifted in his seat again. He closed his eyes and tried to nap but sleep still eluded him. They'd been on the near-capacity 747 for nine of the thirteen-hour flight from San Francisco. Between the Dramamine and the cough syrup, Soonie was not having a problem sleeping. Though he'd already turned off the overhead air-jet blowing on her, she still shuddered in her sleep every so often. Reaching over to adjust the lightweight blanket over her chest and under her chin, he gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead and added his blanket for additional warmth, wondering for the hundredth time in four days how he had gotten so lucky.

He shouldn't have gotten so lucky. He should have fought harder against it. He was beginning to discover he should pick any battles with his wife carefully. Because, when faced with a knife fight, Soonie pulled out her broadsword. She was right, though. There were all kinds of dangers from which he would not be able to protect her.

Besides the fact he hadn't made love to his wife since before they were married, her head cold, hanging on to her like a sticktight burr, had also kept _him_ from sleeping. The jet lag was going to catch up with him. Number one on the list for what needed to be done when they landed was to take Soonie to the doctor – again. He was beginning to fret more over her health than the remote chance of a plane crash taking her away from him. He knew he should stop obsessing over the possibility of losing her but was finding it nigh onto impossible. It had begun to outstrip his need to find Kate.

The trail had gone cold after he and Tommy had found the log entry for the cargo vessel headed for the Black Sea. Too many ports, too many places, all in different countries and cultures, with different rules and regulations.

Fortunately, all the countries bordering the Black Sea were members of Interpol, including Russia. Even if they picked up the trail again, he would have to be part of Interpol to gain access to any of the ports where Kate might have ended up. He also worried about Mignon. There was still a credible threat, and if she was threatened, so was Daisy, and for that matter, Hazzard.

Those concerns would constantly be in the back of his mind. He shoved them aside to concentrate on the more immediate problem of getting settled in South Korea and beginning the legal battle for four-year-old Eun-kyung. He gave up on trying to sleep. After checking the arrangement of Soonie's blankets and travel pillow one more time, he pulled his jacket over his arms and tried to at least relax while eavesdropping on the soft conversations, many in Korean, around them.


	33. Part 2 - Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Two: Long, Long Journey
> 
> “There are some men in this world who are born to do our unpleasant jobs for us…”
> 
> To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee

**Part Two - Chapter Thirty Three:**

**Washington D.C. – August 2000**

Tyrone Lambert, the Los Angeles Times journalist who had accompanied Enos Strate to Washington D.C. sat next to him, a laptop straddling his knees, and typed in last-minute notes they had discussed on the cab ride from the hotel. Interviews for the series of articles about Human Trafficking in California had been ongoing for several weeks – ever since Enos had been requested to testify before the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations.

Today was August 14, 2000. Enos would always remember it as a Monday because today was Esmé's second birthday. With their return flight back to L.A. booked for later in the afternoon, he hoped against hope they could make it. He'd already been gone through the weekend.

But hearings could take several hours, and he had also been requested to stay the course of all the testimony. Cooter had promised to get him out of there in time to catch the plane if it was at all possible.

So now, he sat in the corridor outside the hearing room with a dozen or so other witnesses wishing he hadn't drunk that last cup of coffee and wondering if he should use the restroom once more before being called.

No stranger to the courtroom, his appearance before a Senate committee today would be crucial to passing legislation that would fund programs and task forces. How he had come to be here had come at a price. The last three years had been both beginnings and endings, with occasions of great joy, great sadness...and inconceivable loss.


	34. Part 2 - Chapter 34

**Part Two - Chapter Thirty Four:**

**Hazzard, Georgia – November 1997**

Rosco had since given up making the rounds to the stores in town that sold L.A. based gossip magazines, although there were only two, The Busy Bee and Rhuebottom's Store.

On Day One of his 'assignment,' back on November 6th, Rosco nearly choked on his kolache when he saw the truck that delivers the morning papers drive past the bakery window. Scrambling to shove the rest of the roll into his mouth and say goodbye to Sarah Jane at the same time, he grabbed his jacket from the hat tree and sped out the door.

Miz Tisdale, still manning the Post Office on the high side of eighty-nine, had caught him purloining the gossip rags that very first day, the minute after Hershel Gibbins had put them on the shelf outside Rhuebottom's, and had given him a horrendously stern talking-to about freedom of the press. Bashing him repeatedly with her motorcycle helmet, she made him drop the bundle of papers and chased him away from the front of the store.

When Rosco went back, after he knew the coast was clear of course, he found nothing on the shelves where they were usually displayed and that neither the general store nor the café had received their usual delivery. However, both had found an envelope full of change in their place, suspiciously amounting to exactly the retail price of their usual orders. Rosco had left Rhuebottom's scratching his head and muttering to himself. _'Daisy Duke's_ _gonna' kill me, but first, she's gonna' chop me up like raw liver. There's a flaw in the slaw and I'm gonna' find it."_

Twenty minutes later, he and Flash III were responding to a report of fire behind the Post Office. When he ran into the alley, Rosco found Emma Tisdale standing on a milk crate poking at something inside a 30-gallon oil drum, smoke billowing out of it, a 5-gallon bucket at her feet.

"Miz Tisdale, now you can't be burnin' nothin' back here. It's a fire hazard, ya' hear. Now, you just let me help you put this out," he said, and tried to reach for the bucket of water.

With Emma's short little arms fighting him off, Rosco held her carefully out of the way with one hand and peered down into the drum only to find all the papers he had been trying to commandeer turning to ash in the bottom. Before he could pull his head up out of the drum, she dumped the bucket of water on his head. Rosco would go to his grave wondering how the little pixie had been able to heave that bucket so fast.

Dripping wet, he stood up, wiping the water, and the consternation, off his face. He looked a little like Curly Joe.

"Miz Tisdale! Shame, shame! I'm an officer of the law..."

"Well, that's debatable. But for your information, Sheriff, I bought these papers and I can do whatever I want with em,'" she said and threatened him with the empty bucket. "Why'd you want with them papers anyway, Rosco?"

"Welllll...Hey, I don't have to explain nothin' ta' you. I'm the Sheriff and boss of this here county see, and you..."

She drew herself up to her maximum height of 4' 11" and planted her hands on her hips. "An' I'm a duly appointed official representative of the U.S. Gov'ment. So you better spill them beans b'fore I make 'em rattle around in your empty head." She raised the now-empty bucket again, hardened her gaze, and gnarled her lips together menacingly.

Prior experience with Miz Tisdale had made Rosco as cautious as a snake doctor around a starving bullfrog. He recoiled and braced for another assault.

"Could it be," she asked, her eyes still narrowed to little tiny slits, "there's somethin' in them papers you don't want nobody in Hazzard ta' see? Somethin' about a certain former deputy?"

She held up a copy of one of the most popular, not to mention the most gossip-mongering, scandal sheets with the headline _THE DETECTIVE AND THE HOOKER_ in large red letters that blotted out the faces of a man with brown hair and a woman whose hair was auburn.

"Miz Tisdale! Why I'm surprised at you! You...You itty bitty little devil." Then he put on his serious face and went limp. "You know it ain't none of it true, don't ya'? Not none of it, not no how."

"Course I know that, you birdbrained nincompoop. But I got a Post Office to run, so I can't be runnin' around all the time b'fore I open the P.O. tryin' to squelch barefaced lies. So next time, you mind you _pay_ for them papers, you hear me Rosco Purvis Coltrane. Just 'cause you're sheriff doesn't mean I can't take a switch to your scrawny bottom, just like I did to his once or twice when he was growin' up."

"Yes, Ma'am," Rosco said and smiled. Still a little cautious of a possible counterattack, he leaned down, kissed her on the top of her head, and whispered, "God bless ya,' Miz Emma. You're a real peach. And that's a fact."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Daisy's initial problem had been how to tell Aunt Judy and Uncle Frank what they needed to know without alarming them or giving away anything that would put Enos, his new family, Kate, or anyone in Hazzard in danger, including them. The Strate farm was the first visit she made after receiving the letter that Monday afternoon; before Rosco started spreading the news around town. Thanks to Alvin Dobbins, the HazzardNet had already been set to buzzing about the package from Enos that had arrived for Daisy the day before.

When she pulled up to the Strate house on her Harley, she prepared herself for the cold reception she was sure to get when she knocked on the door. Looking around, she realized how long it had been since she had stood on the porch of the house that had built Enos Strate.

Uncle Frank had taken good care of the farm. He hadn't squandered the money Enos had been sending them all those years that he was in Los Angeles. The fences were in good condition, the picket fence around the three-bedroom single-story house was freshly painted and cured wood had been piled neatly in the wood rack, ready for winter.

When she turned around to knock on the screen door, Frank, looking so much like an older version of his brother, Otis, and of Enos for that matter, was already holding it open for her.

"C'mon in, Daisy. We been expectin' you."

Even though the welcome seemed to be less frigid than she had anticipated, she still felt out of place.

"Did Enos tell you I would be coming by?"

"No'um. I reckon we're the last two people in Hazzard he'd be callin' about you" Frank said, putting his hands in the pockets of his blue overalls.

Straight-laced Aunt Judy had never approved of Enos's affections being settled on her. Judy had raised his ire once, in the heat of an angry exchange, by calling Daisy a _trollop_. Daisy had long ago forgiven her, but the incident had prompted Enos, then twenty-six, to move out of the farmhouse and into a room at the boarding house in town. That he had asked them to attend the wedding (the one that never happened) was a testament for his capacity for forgiveness. Though the property was still in his name and he hadn't asked Frank and Judy to leave, he had not gone back there to live either.

"Now, Uncle Frank," she dared address him, "that simply isn't true..."

"Miss Mary Bowling was by yesterday evenin' ta' pick up summa' my pickled scuppernongs," Judy said. Until now, she had been sitting quietly on the same neatly upholstered sofa with the little floral roses that had been in the house since before Enos's father died.

"We got to talkin' about how they're Nephew's favorite snack," Frank said, "and she said how she was talkin' to Elviry Rose over ta' the feed store when Alvin Dobbins come ta' deliver her a package from her sister Amy Louise. An' we just put two 'n two together when we saw you ridin' up the road. Said Alvin told her the Sheriff was there when the package 'rived."

"You got sometin' ta' tell us, child?" Judy asked.

"Yes, Ma'am," Daisy said, with an appreciation of the fact that Aunt Judy's worrisome half-smile seemed to be genuine, and maybe all she could hope for.

Daisy pulled a photo out of the envelope she'd had tucked in her leather Duke University jacket and sat down on the sofa.

"He wanted me to tell you before you found out from somebody else," she said, handing Aunt Judy a photo of Enos in a Sunday suit with his arm around the waist of the woman standing next to him in front of a church altar. The woman wore a tailored coral wedding outfit and held a small nosegay of flowers in her left hand. They were both wearing wide gold wedding rings.

"Her name is," she tried her best to pronounce it correctly, "Kyung-soon. But Enos calls her Soonie. She was born in Korea. South Korea that is, not North Korea. They were married last Thursday afternoon."

Daisy had tried her best to explain to Aunt Judy that marrying Soonie wasn't the most insane thing her nephew had ever done and that he had not been seduced by the wicked ways of a big city floozy. Even Uncle Frank had a hard time with the fact that this Soonie woman was someone they had never even heard of until today. Why should they just accept it? She hadn't been able to accept it either - at first.

"I think they are very much in love."

How could she tell them she knew that to be true because she had _met_ Enos's wife without telling them that she had been to Los Angeles? It was when she told them he had quit the LAPD and would be living in South Korea for the foreseeable future that the peas started sliding off the plate.


	35. Part 2 - Chapter 35

**Part Two - Chapter Thirty Five:**

**_Seoul, Republic of Korea – December 1997_ **

Enos shifted in his seat again and stretched out his legs to get the kinks out. The chairs at the National Central Bureau were probably meant to be uncomfortable. Kept anyone from outstaying their welcome. Subtlety. That had been his first takeaway from Korean culture.

A lot of firsts in the last few weeks: first time sleeping with, and waking up to (his most favorite part of the day), someone beside him every morning; first time in a foreign country (he didn't count Mexico because sometimes the Baja just seemed like an extension of California); first time interviewing for a job that wasn't in law _enforcement_.

Many more firsts would come before it was over...

Technically, Interpol was not an enforcement agency. Although Interpol officers helped to coordinate joint investigations, they didn't conduct their own autonomous investigations. It was an information gathering and police liaison organization - exactly what he needed to track Kate.

The computer systems were a little more sophisticated than he was used to and in the process of being upgraded again – so, if he got the job, he'd have to go through technical training along with all the other training requirements. Not exactly a first for him. Having had plenty of time on his hands the last two weeks, he'd familiarized himself with everything Interpol he could get his hands on. _After having reinvented himself more than a few times over the last thirty years, how hard could it be? He would do it the same way he'd done it before – whatever was required._

He _would_ have to learn more Korean. Just living with Soonie since early November had greatly increased his vocabulary. If she yelled at him now, he'd be able to catch a few more of the words. _And_ p _eople here are very accommodatin' to foreigners._ He'd learned Spanish on the streets of L.A., at least enough to get by. The thought that he should have spent a little more time in Koreatown crossed his mind. Before they were married, when they were spending time in each other's company, Soonie had not wanted to go to any of the events or festivals. She preferred places that were less crowded, more - quiet. She never really ventured far from within the sanctuary of her cubicle at the accounting firm except for that month in New York.

This NCB office in the heart of Seoul, with its views of snow-capped mountains all around, serene gardens, and ancient palaces was a long way from the farm. Made him smile to remember that he had sold a pig to buy that beat-up used car when he first arrived in L.A. back in 1980. _Yep!_ _he was a long way from Los Angeles and an even longer way from Hazzard County._ Thoughts like those always ended up meandering to thoughts of the cabin outside Burbank and wondering how long he and Soonie could afford to hang on to it.

She'd talked him into putting off the call to Mr. Hargrove. _'We will need somewhere to live when we come home, somewhere for Eun-kyung to play.'_ Soonie could probably convince him to run necked in the streets if she put her mind to it. They had a kind of wrestling here called _ssireum_ where the men dang near did that.

Enos was grateful that, when first arriving in Seoul, they'd found a doctor who had given Soonie a prescription that finally knocked out her cold. Then, they'd moved into a small post-war house on the outskirts of the Seoul Capital Area in the satellite city of Goyang. It was a short commute to the heart of the city where Soonie worked but located in a less densely populated area close to Soonie's father's more traditional house – close to Gem.

_**Los Angeles, California – December 1997** _

Gordon Thomson was working late at Parker Center.

Elektra was the last person he expected to look up from his computer screen and see. She sauntered over to his desk in her high heeled lace-up boots, flouncy black lace dress, and black painted nails. For maximum effect, it looked as if she had freshly applied deep blood-red lipstick. _God, she was hot._

Pushing down thoughts of how humiliating it had been when she turned him down flat for that date, he asked coldly, "Something I can do for you, Ms. Van Der Pelt?"

"Can we talk?" she asked with a definitive _don't-give-me-any-grief_ quality to her voice. Letting her large tote bag fall off her shoulder, she caught it and held it in front of her with both hands.

"I'm listening."

"Actually, I have to show you something. You have a VCR in this place?"

~~~~~*~~~~~

In the screening room, Elektra, looking very much like she knew exactly what she was doing, set the playback mode to the highest resolution, and fine-tuned the contrast.

_The footage had been running for a few minutes, ostensibly a documentary about Life on the Serengeti, when the images fizzled and sputtered into view of a man standing in a lavishly decorated room. A young girl, hardly more than a child, was tied, hands and feet, splayed out onto a bed. She looked to be no more than twelve or thirteen._

At one point, Elektra couldn't take seeing it again and had to look away.

_The man's speech was high pitched, and he salivated as he spat out lewd suggestions at his screaming victim who was now flailing her body wildly, trying to escape. Removing his clothes, he started toward her and into full view of the camera lens._

_Something must have caught the man's attention, because he turned to the other man in the room, now also in view of the camera, and screamed, "You stupid f***. That's the wrong f***ing tape!"_

_Just before the clip went black, it showed a clear view of the other man._

Thompson leaned back in the chair and said, "Holy shit!"

It was Victor Mollaret, aka Étienne Hebert.

Then, the tape pixelated into a plain of umbrella thorn trees silhouetted against the exquisite beauty of the setting sun on the Serengeti. By that time, Thompson was out of his chair, pacing up and down behind Elektra. Running his hands through his dark hair, he exposed tiny silver hairs around the temples that he swore had been achieved only recently through his association with one Enos Strate.

"How the hell did you get your hands on this?" he asked, holding down the sour taste of bile and stomach acid rising from his gut.

Elektra cleared the liquid draining into her throat and wiped the corner of her right eye.

"One of the customers at the video store brought it back saying the tape was defective and that there was missing footage, blank space. I put it on the high rez viewer so I could document the issue before I sent it back to the manufacturer. When I played the tape, there was a blip, almost like a flash, of something that seemed odd in the middle of the blank strip. So, I took it to a...private studio to see if there was something hidden, or erased, from the blank space."

"How...did you know to even look?"

"Not stupid, in case you hadn't noticed."

Clarissa Van Der Pelt was born, and grew up, in the valley, graduating summa cum laude with a double major and degrees in both Philosophy and Statistics from the University of California Berkeley. He was still trying to figure out why she was working at a video store. And she wouldn't say. _The look...?_ That intrigued him more than put him off.

"Private studio, huh?" Thompson asked.

"Ask me no questions, blah, blah, blah..." she said without even turning to look at him.

She didn't have to. She knew his left eyebrow would be raised in that quizzical look he got when he knew people, usually the teens with whom he was working, were being evasive.

"Tommy...I know the one man is Mollaret, the guy who died in that warehouse fire. But is the other guy who I think he is?"

"If you think it's Niki Lazzaro *****? Abso-frickin-lutely."

_**Los Angeles, California – Saturday before Christmas 1997** _

Inez De Pina, spending a rare Saturday at home, put the phone back in the cradle on the kitchen counter, and contemplated what to do next. The Korean consulate requesting an appointment to do an interview today was not the phone call she had been waiting for.

_**Hazzard, Georgia – Saturday before Christmas 1997** _

Christmas was only five days away and Daisy was helping Uncle Jesse winterize the spring vegetable garden so that they could turn their attention to holiday preparations. Uncle Jesse was beside himself with giddy abandon about having children in the house again.

It was a bit late, for winterizing the garden that is, but the weather had not been such that it required the usual late November winterizing. They'd all had other things to keep them occupied. Luke and Sophie's wedding had been a small ceremony, right there on the farm under the willow at the far end of the lane. Sophie wore a plain light blue cotton maxi-dress and Luke was dressed in his best jeans and corduroy jacket.

The most recent HazzardNet gossip making the rounds was that Rosco had been seen spending less time at the Busy Bee of late; and that his fondness for corn dogs seemed to have gone by the wayside in favor of those new sausage stuffed rolls Sarah Jane was making down to the bakery for early mornin' risers. Namely, Rosco P. Coltrane.

Bo and Annie had been spending more time together. He seemed to have conquered his fear that anyone would look at their age difference and say somethin' stupid to make her shy away from him. It was only eight years and Annie _was_ a grown woman. Their blossoming relationship both delighted and worried Daisy at the same time. She was happy he was finally starting to get serious about his life, with all the plans he and Cooter were making to go into business together and all. But Annie came with baggage that Daisy wasn't real sure Bo was ready for.

Daisy was pulling out old plants to prevent any volunteers from showing up in the spring, tossing them onto the burn pile rather than into the compost heap. It was the kind of work that always kept her mind less focused on worrying and let it do a little more wool-gathering.

When Sophie came out to help, Daisy gave her a pair of gloves and put her to work deep raking the end of the plot she had just cleared.

"It'll bring more of the leftover roots and sticks to the surface so they can be burned too," she explained.

She liked Sophie. Being from Missoula, Montana, the adjustment to life in Georgia had been fairly smooth but Sophie had admitted once or twice that she missed the crisp December days and snow for Christmas they would not have in Hazzard.

Sophie and Luke had been married for two weeks now. Emily, the five-year-old, seemed to be taking it all in stride and clearly loved Luke. Daisy thought the major adjustment would have been Luke finally settling down, but, as it turned out, it was Caleb transferring to Hazzard Elementary that had been the giant leap.

Uncle Jesse strode up next to Sophie and said, "Sweetheart, you're gonna' git some nasty blisters if you keep holdin' the rake that way even with them gloves on. Mind if I show ya' how ta' do it so's ya' don't ruin those sweet little hands?"

"Of course not, Uncle Jesse. And thanks."

She was about to relinquish the yard rake just as a black Hyundai drove into the yard and parked in front of the house. From the garden beside the barn, they watched the driver get out and open the door for a man dressed neatly in a black three-piece suit and carrying an official-looking briefcase.

By the time Bo and Annie came out of the house to see what was going on, Daisy was walking up to the car.

"You must be from the consulate."

Neither Enos nor Soonie had been sure of the etiquette for such a meeting in this demographic so Daisy put out her hand thinking she should just do what came naturally on her own turf. "I'm Daisy Duke, and this is my cousin, Bo Duke, and our friend, Annie Poe."

Surprisingly, the man put his hand out and gave a semi-handshake to both Daisy and Bo. Annie had stayed on the porch.

Bowing ever so slightly, he said, "I am Jeong Hyun-seok, Consul for the Republic of Korea in your City of Atlanta." Holding out a business card to Bo, he said, "May I present my card."

Daisy whispered quickly 'both hands' to Bo as he started to take it with one.

"You know our customs," Mr. Jeong said, and with another slight bow added, "I am impressed."

"Don't be too impressed," Bo said, "We ain't much on formality around here and that's about all Enos told us the few times we talked to him in the last coupla' weeks."

"The effort is, then, more appreciated."

By the time Cooter Davenport drove his truck into the yard and jumped out of the driver's seat, Uncle Jesse and Sophie had joined the odd-looking little group in the front yard.

Cooter introduced himself in his official capacity as Congressman for Georgia District 4 and greeted Mr. Jeong with a nice bow that looked well-practiced, and often used. Then, he turned to the Duke clan, at least the ones who were present.

"Hey, where's Luke?"

"He took the kids for a ride on the tractor," Sophie said, leaning on the rake she had neglected to lay down in the garden. Then, wildly, hoped it didn't make her look threatening.

"Boy, howdy, Mrs. Duke. Glad to meet the woman who finally corralled old Luke."

"Nice to meet you too, Congressman."

"My friends call me Cooter."

"You know, Mr. Jeong," Cooter said, "the Dukes here didn't expect your visit until after the New Year holiday. When my secretary in Capital City told _me_ you were on your way out here to Hazzard today, I was real surprised."

"I beg your forgiveness, Congressman Davenport. A matter of some urgency was brought to our attention and we were instructed to move forward more swiftly with the investigation into Mr. Strate's background. The Ministry takes the removal of Korean children from our country very seriously."

"Uh-huh...Just so happened I was comin' in today to do some business with Bo here when I got the call." He turned to Daisy. "I'da called ahead but I thought I'd get here first."

"It's okay, Cooter."

"Come on in the house, Mr. Jeong," Uncle Jesse said. Until that moment, he had been content to let Daisy, Bo, and Cooter take the lead.

As everyone else headed into the house, Daisy took Cooter's arm and leaned in to ask, "Why'd you need to be here anyway. They're just gettin' references for the custody petition."

"Well, I hadn't planned on it. I thought the consulate was gonna' send some lower-level attaché to interview ya'll and just take a few notes and get some references. But this guy's like number two at the consulate, directly under the Consul General. Must be that somethin' come up that made 'em bump it up on the schedule."

"You sure you haven't been in D.C. too long, Cooter. You're getting' as skittish as somebody else I know."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Daisy invited Mr. Jeong and Cooter to sit at the table and asked, "Can we get you something to drink? I made fresh sun tea."

"I would be 'much obliged' for some sun tea Miss Duke," Mr. Jeong said, proud of his use of local vernacular, and with the ubiquitous bow of his head, "Gamsahabnida."

She had assumed he knew what sun tea was just as he had assumed she would discern the Korean honorific for 'thank you.'

Once the formalities were out of the way and everyone had a cold glass of tea in front of them, Mr. Jeong pulled papers out of his briefcase, including a familiar-looking gossip magazine in full view, with the intention of starting her interview.

"I will need to obtain statements from everyone in the household as well, Ms. Duke, and I will be conducting interviews at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Frank Strate, a sampling of residents and business owners in town, and Sheriff...mmm...Rosco Purvis Coltrane and his staff."

"Well," Uncle Jesse put his thumbs in the bib of his overalls and said, "You can talk to all of us and anybody in Hazzard and we'll tell you all you need to know about Enos Strate, 'cause we been knowin' that boy since he was born."

Jesse and Daisy had already had a discussion about why all this fuss was necessary when Enos's Mrs. was the legal guardian all signed and sealed in her brother's will.

Cooter's eyes were fixed on the magazine. At least now he had a good idea of why they had made a sudden change in schedule.

To Mr. Jeong, he said, "I hope you don't mind, but since there's ongoin' criminal investigations on the state and federal level that could be compromised, I feel obliged to be present durin' all them aforementioned interviews."

_**Goyang-si, Republic of Korea – December 1997** _

Enos exited the train at Wondang Station and turned the collar of his overcoat up against the cold that hit him when he stepped off the car and tucked his package under his arm. The walk home took him only a little out of the way through Ilsan Lake Park. There were more people in the park than he imagined there would be considering the weather and a lot of them were tourists. He met a couple from Germany who spoke English but almost no Korean and asked for directions to the lotus ponds and pagodas.

"I've only been living here for about a month, but I think you're gonna' find it thataway," he said, pointing in the direction of the walking path.

The park had only been open for a couple of years and covered more than 275 acres. According to Miz Baek, the park was something they shouldn't miss seeing with Gem come Spring. The custody process would take at least that long and they had no timetable for the formal adoption proceedings. The possibility of a year-long stay had morphed into a likelihood.

The weather report, which he could get in English, had predicted light snow by early evening, but he needed some time before he went home to Soonie. They had already had to live through the awful stories once, having it crop up as a stumbling block to gainful employment with Interpol would not sit well. Why should it? Wasn't sitting well with him either.

At least they had been able to register the counter-petition for sole custody of Gem. Both still recovering, Soonie from her cold, him from the jet lag, they had appeared before the Ministry of Health, Welfare, and Family Affairs on November 28, just ahead of the deadline. The immigration attorney Soonie's uncle had engaged on their behalf had pled their case, in Korean of course, which Soonie had to translate for him, and they had walked away with a ruling from the court. Although Gem would continue to live in Mr. Mun's house and remain in his care, the court had agreed to review the additional petition for visitation rights until the custody case could be settled. A ministry social worker had paid calls on them several times over the past two weeks, but they'd still not been granted permission to see Gem.

Laying down the box he'd been carrying beside him, Enos sat down on the stone steps and put his head in his hands. Soonie had tried to hide her concern that everything that happened in L.A. might follow them to Korea. Considering it was holding up his application to Interpol, he was afraid the negative press about him might be the reason for the delay in visitation rights. She was emotional enough these days without having to deal with that again.

When Enos arrived home, Soonie was standing at the window in an off-white poofy looking slip that flared out around her ankles. In the dark, silhouetted against the whitish backdrop she watched the falling snow make soft shawls on the branches of fruit-heavy persimmon trees that lined the street. He put the package next to the traditional Korean dress she had laid out on the bed and wrapped his arms gently around her waist, careful not to squeeze too tightly.

"I will not break you know," she said.

"I know...just want to be careful, considerin' what the doc said."

"I will be fine," she whispered. "Many women have babies when they are thirty-six."

He kissed her bare shoulder then nuzzled his face into her neck.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," she said and put her hands over his, which were still hovering protectively over her mid-section.

"I was talkin' to the baby."

She laughed with a lightness he had missed the last month or so. She gave him a soft kiss which he, pulling her into him, turned into a deeper one. They never wasted precious moments like these - something to hold on to in the days that neither spoke of but both knew were ahead.

Reluctantly, they let the moment pass into the memory vault. Then, she spied the box on the bed.

"What have you brought home?"

"I bought the prettiest little ole' doll at the Namdaemun Market. She's wearin' a dress sort of like that one," he pointed to the _chima-jeogori_ on the bed, "with a kind of flower do-dad in her hair." He took the top off the box to show her. "Looks a little like Gem from her picture and kind of what I thought you mighta' looked like when you were a little girl. The lady at the shop tried to get me to buy a Korean Barbie Doll® but I liked this one with the drum."

She smiled. "The flower do-dad is called a _tteoljam_ , from the Joseon Dynasty. Like this one." From the vanity next to the window, she picked up the six-petal embroidered broach that had been sewn to a headband and showed it to him. "And the drum is called a _pungmulbuk_."

"Not gonna' try to say that three times fast. Havin' enough trouble with 'thank you.' Don't think my backwoods tongue is equipped for Korean." He'd told her more than once that he was afraid his Blue Ridge accent speaking Korean words might insult her ancestors.

"That is nonsense. You have been doing well with your Korean lessons. I heard you speaking with the delivery man yesterday."

"He was just bein' polite. Like most everybody else here - takin' pity on the foreigner. Smells good in here. We havin' somethin' special for dinner?"

"I made bulgogi."

He licked his lips. "Um um. You know, Mrs. Strate, I think I'm gonna' keep you."

"I certainly hope so, since it is a little late to throw me back now."

Tomorrow, since the baby was due in mid-August, they would be marrying again, this time under Korean law in a traditional Korean ceremony where he would be meeting some of her relatives – the ones who were still speaking to her, that is. Not wanting to spoil the mood, even if it was only a temporary hold on the outside world, he put off telling her about his day until after dinner.

_**Los Angeles, California – December 1997** _

Thompson planned to duck out of the unit Christmas Party early but not until he could get a word with De Pina, and managed to corner her by insinuating himself into her conversation with Mike Radakovich.

"Inez. Can I talk to you?" He had tried to broach the subject earlier that day, but she had put him off.

"Not really the time for shop talk, Thompson. Save it for Monday."

"Really? Since when did you not want to talk shop? I want to know what happened to my report about the Atlanta connection." Thompson had done a lot of work with the follow up on Lazzaro and his operation and in a very short time.

"Your report's gone to Major Crimes. They'll handle it from here. You have your own cases to work, the ones you're assigned to. I suggest you concentrate on those."

There had never been much love lost between him and Inez De Pina, even after everything that had gone down in November. But he'd come to respect her and thought that she had at least gained some small measure of respect for him. They seemed to have started backsliding since Strate left and he was at a loss to understand why. Not wanting to call undue attention to that fact, he left without getting any satisfactory answers and feeling like there was something wrong with this picture.

Unable, or unwilling, to resist, he thought that he might as well get it over with. Risking more rejection, he headed for Elektra's apartment in Santa Monica.

~~~~~*~~~~~

"Don't worry," he said, leaning with his outstretched arm on the door frame, "I'm not here to embarrass myself by asking you out again. I just need to run something by you."

"You sure give up easy," she said under her breath as she ushered him into the efficiency bungalow.

"What?"

"Nothing. What did you want to run by me?"

_**Hazzard, Georgia – Saturday before Christmas 1997** _

Even though the sun was high in the sky, a cold wind was blowing through Hazzard County, rustling the few remaining brownish leaves off the sweet gum and maple trees. November might have been uncharacteristically warmer, but Hazzard was set to be in for a wet, cold winter, in more ways than one.

Cooter stared out the window of the Duke living room. For the casual observer, everything seemed normal. Well, as normal as things got in Hazzard anyway. Watching Bo follow Annie into the open field, he crossed his arms and shook his head. Had Consul Jeong intended to leave a bucketload of cow patties in his wake he couldn't have done a better job of it. The poor man was sitting at the kitchen table as perplexed as anyone, bowing and apologizing to Uncle Jesse and trying to convince him that the South Korean government took no stock in the _night soil_ in that magazine and that his only mission was to assure a good, safe home could be provided for four-year-old Mun Eun-kyung.

_What a mess._

And he couldn't do anything about it. His hands were trussed up like a Thanksgivin' turkey. Cooter Davenport might have been able to tell them what he knew, but _Congressman_ Davenport was sitting on information he couldn't share with anyone outside the FBI and GBI - information that had now extended the scope of several investigations and brought them home to Georgia. The fact that Niki Lazarro was involved complicated everything.

The confidential FBI report had arrived on his desk three days ago. Major crime units of the Los Angeles, San Diego, and San Francisco Police Departments, as well as the Los Angeles County Sheriff's office and detectives specializing in human trafficking, had established connections between the Atlanta based criminal operation of Niki Lazzaro and at least five open cases in California: the murder of a foreign national on American soil (Radmila Kozlova, whose body could still not be released to her relatives in Belarus), robberies of five video stores in Los Angeles, the attack on an LAPD detective (one Enos Strate), the disappearance of Kate Broussard, and the death of Étienne Hebert (aka victor Mollaret).

" _Niki "The Lizard" Lazzaro was the untouchable nexus of one of Atlanta's most prolific human trafficking organizations. [In the 1980s] he protected himself from prosecution by an army of loosely connected associations and, so far, each one had led to a dead end. Sometimes literally."_ **(1)**

Following a raid in late 1986, Lazzaro had been underground for a while, until he resurfaced in 1988, still legally untouchable. Knowing that criminal activity was taking place was easier than finding solid proof that would stick to the wall.

The FBI had literally, and officially, made a federal case out of it. Now the Georgia Bureau of Investigation was also actively working on the case. This time, they were going after Lazzaro, and his various operations, with everything they could. The connections to cases involving the trafficking in California of human beings from countries other than the US put the investigation on an international scale.

And good ole Enos was smack dab in the middle of it.


	36. Part 2 - Chapter 36

**Part Two - Chapter Thirty Six:**

**_December 1997_ **

_The old four-wheel-drive approached that steeply inclined drive that led into Paw Paw's place, with both girls waiting with eager anticipation in the back seat. Daddy always stopped the car at the top, winked his eye, said, "Hold on to your butts," then steered the rusting jeep into the valley of the fairies. With purple-flowered shamrock clover, wild strawberry, and lush green rock cap moss dripping off the clay cliffs on either side, it looked magical._

_More magical still was that the valley of the fairies culminated in a wooden bridge over the runoff channel that ran through Paw Paw's property. Overgrown with sixty-year-old tree roots, the channel's flow ran under the twisty root bridges through elephant ears, wood fern, and banks lined with flowering water plants._

_The mysterious world of Paw Paw's place was the reward for the monotony of the ride from Lafayette Parish to Livingston Parish over the long, boring bridge through the Atchafalaya Basin. Eighteen miles of highway suspended over a swamp was just too much for two preteen girls to abide._

**The outside world tried to break through - moans and crying, chains dragged across stone floors...but she would have none of it.**

**The ponds...** the ponds at Paw Paw's house...

Daddy and Paw Paw _fishing..._

_The bald cypress trees..._

_...soft lime green, with delicate, fern-like fronds tipped with tiny balls of cones at the ends of the branches...draped with Spanish moss, like gray tinsel, and knees poking up out of the water - a light breeze making soft ripples through mossy algae covering half the surface of the pond. A goose on the other banks, next to the old party barn that got shredded in Hurricane Betsy, protected her eggs. Some mothers did that._

_Both girls had taken off their sandals and stretched their legs out over a carpet of mossy ground watching Daddy cast his line. A dragonfly landed on Mignon's toe and she giggled. Katie shooshed her so as not to scare the helicopter bug away. It stayed there for a couple of minutes until Mignon couldn't stand it anymore and had to shake her leg._

" _I couldn't help it, my leg went to sleep," she cried, "I'll do better next time."_

_They both giggled, knowing there would be a next time. Dragonflies and snake doctors had no reservations about landing on your hand or toe or head if you sat still long enough. But Mignon was ten and ran out of patience sooner than her sister, Katie, who was twelve and a half. Half years made a big difference to preteen girls who were growing up too fast._

_Katie dug around in the ratty old tote bag that Mama had given her before she left and pulled out a book. It was their favorite book, hers and Mignon's. One would think that in this magical fairy world they would want to read books about fairies and wood nymphs and sprites. But not Katie and Mignon. Their favorite book was "The Collected Poems of Edgar Allan Poe.'_

_Mignon loved to recite 'A Valentine.'_

" _For her this rhyme is penned, whole luminous eyes,_

_Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,_

_Shall find her own sweet name, that, nestling lies_

_Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader._

_Search narrowly the lines! – they hold a treasure_

_Divine – a talisman – an amulet_

_That must be worn at heart. Search well the measure –_

_The words – the syllables! Do not forget_

_The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor!_

_And yet there is in this no Gordian knot_

_Which one might not undo without a sabre,_

_If one could merely comprehend the plot._

_Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering_

_Eyes scintillating soul, there lie perdus,_

_Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing_

_Of poets, by poets – as the name is a poet's too._

_Its letters, although naturally lying_

_Like the knight Pinto – Mendez Ferdinando – Still form a synonym for Truth – Cease trying!_

_You will not read the riddle, though you do the best you can do." *_

_She had memorized the poem when she was nine...when Daddy was himself. He had rarely been himself since Mama left...only on these soft Spring days when he could take his girls to fairyland and fish with Paw Paw._

_Mignon challenged anyone and everyone who would listen to decipher the riddle. What she never revealed to the uninitiated was that one had to read the verse in written form in order to break the code and find out the name of the woman for whom Poe had written it._

_Hiding things in plain sight used to be Mignon's favorite game..._

_..._ before it stopped being a game.

**The ceiling was dripping on her face and the moans became louder.**

**The book...**

Katie and _Mignon reading Poe..._

_Katie and Mignon reading Poe by the pond...softly breezy days, old shredded barns and a Great Blue Heron passing overhead, casting its shadow like a prehistoric pterodactyl..._

_While Mignon's favorite was a riddle, Katie's was "Annabel Lee.'_

" _It was many and many a year ago,_

_In a kingdom by the sea,_

_That a maiden there lived whom you may know_

_By the name of ANNABEL LEE;..."_

**The ceiling of the cell was dripping again with that tortuous ping, ping, ping that droned through her brain like rail spikes into steel track and tried to overpower her resolve.**

**She realized now that the liquid on her face was not limited to the foul droplets from the ceiling and reached up as far as the chains would allow wiping away hot tears. She couldn't remember what day it was or how long she had been there.**

**This too** shall _pass..._

_Dragonflies. Must think of dragonflies and soft spring days, and..._

_...and Annie._


	37. Part 2 - Chapter 37

**Part Two - Chapter Thirty Seven:**

**Hazzard, Georgia – Saturday before Christmas 1997**

Damage control. Not something Cooter ever thought he'd be doing today. Turning his attention away from the window and the scene that was about to play out in the field, he walked back to the table and tried to smooth things over between Uncle Jesse and Consul Jeong.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Bo waded through thistle and sedge weed that covered the field, wondering how Annie had been able to put so much distance between them in so short a time. Fast-moving dark clouds threatened as the stalks of the grassy weeds licked at his jeans. He stopped short and called out to her.

"Annie, stop!"

But Annie stopped only when she reached the one boulder in the field that Bo and Luke had not yet blasted out. She'd had to dodge three or four craters to get that far. How much Bo loved making things explode worried her sometimes.

Sinking limply onto the rock, she picked at stick-tights that covered the hem of her skirt and emptied the contents of both shoes, sending gritty red-orange earth back from whence it came. By the time Bo reached her, she had slid down the side of the rock to the ground. He knelt in front of her, holding the sweater she'd not grabbed before running from the house.

"Annie...it's gettin' cold and there's a storm comin.' You can't stay out here. And look, you done hurt yourself."

Her legs and ankles, sliced repeatedly by the prickly spines of the thistle leaves, looked like she'd been attacked by _triffids_ and tiny droplets of blood were forming where the rock had scraped patches of skin off her left arm.

Without warning, Annie reached up and grabbed him around the neck, holding him as tightly as she could for a few seconds and then let go of him as quickly. He wouldn't have been more surprised if he'd been struck by lightning... _and that was a real possibility if they stayed out here in the open._

It had been different with Annie than the other girls he had dated. Dated, that was a word that didn't really fit their relationship. They'd been spending a lot of time together. Aside from Thanksgiving day, when she had put her head on his shoulder, they had not advanced any further than hand-holding.

It wasn't that she had been playing coy, or hard-to-get or any of those female wiles. He was certain of that. It was something else he couldn't put his finger on. But considering his not-so-secret reputation, he was so afraid of doing something that would spook her that he hadn't even tried to kiss her, let alone make any advances of a more forward nature.

It had been nice, for a change, to just enjoy being in her company. But now, something was wrong, something was very wrong.

A long, loud rumble of thunder cut through the air, making Bo pull Annie up to her feet and lead her to the lean-to at the edge of the field where they stored fencing material. He sat her down on a pile of stacked fence posts and sat beside her. She wasn't crying - just limp - with a kind of zombielike glaze over her emerald green eyes. Bo couldn't help it. He threaded his hand through her hair to push it back off her face, exposing barely visible strands of reddish-brown roots within the otherwise strawberry blond.

She bent her head into his palm and shook it slowly. "I'm just so tired."

"Annie..." he whispered and expelled a worried sigh.

"Bo...My name isn't...Annie is the name my sister used to call me when we were little."

~~~~~*~~~~~

"Annie! Bo!" Daisy called. She ran to within twenty feet and stopped, bent over, leaning her hands on her knees and caught her breath. In jeans, she had managed to avoid the thistle barbs and knew where the blast holes were. She should. She had watched Bo and Luke blast nearly every one of them.

Catching her breath, and seeing the quizzical look on Bo's face, she could guess that Annie had either spilled her guts or was about to.

"Ya'll, we need to go in. Now. Or we're gonna' get caught in a gully washer," she said, looking up at the dark gray looming overhead.

A crack of lightning struck about a mile away, prompting Bo to pick Annie up in his arms to avoid any more thistle attacks and run in the direction of the house, with Daisy in the lead. The rain started with a vengeance, as southern rain can do, then slacked off before they reached the middle of the yard. Daisy and Bo were not too wet, but Annie was soaked to the skin before they made it onto the porch. The tractor was in the barn, so they knew Luke had had the sense to bring the kids in when the clouds started moving in and the thunder started. Noticeably missing from the yard was the black Hyundai and Cooter Davenport's truck.

Bo put Annie down onto her feet when Uncle Jesse came out onto the porch with three large towels and gave one to each of them. "Daisy, you take Annie upstairs and ya'll change into somethin' dry."

"C'mon, Annie," Daisy said, opening the front door.

Annie was quiet and shivered in the towel. She looked back at Bo, who still had a big question mark on his face.

Sophie followed them up saying, "I'm sure I have something that will work."

After the three of them disappeared up the stairwell, Uncle Jesse turned to Bo and said, "You too. Git."

"Yes, Sir," he said and beat it to the room he now shared with Caleb, passing Luke and the kids on the way through the parlor. "Glad ya'll made it back in before it rained."

"Yeah, it was tundrin and lighting," Emily giggled. Caleb was sitting next to Emily on the sofa when Luke returned from the kitchen with two cups of hot chocolate.

Upstairs, Sophie found a light dress for Annie. "I think it'll fit. You can put your sweater over it so you don't get chilled."

Annie eyed the sundress with some trepidation and said, "Thanks."

But there was a height difference between Sophie and Daisy. She wasn't sure if anything would fit.

"Don't worry about it, Sophie, I think I left some things in Emily's room. Daisy went through a box she pulled from the top of the closet and found an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from the eighties. When she came back into Sophie and Luke's bedroom, she said to Annie, I'm not too wet, so you can use the bathroom across the hall."

"Then, you and me have to talk before we go back down."

"I know," Annie said and went into the bathroom to change her clothes.

"I'll just go back downstairs," Sophie said, feeling more than awkward.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Downstairs, Bo came out of his room. Having put on dry socks and an unbuttoned fresh shirt, he rubbed the dampness out of his mop of sandy blond hair. Luke was in the parlor grilling Sophie and Uncle Jesse about what happened to get their uncle's dander up.

"Who was in that fancy black car?" Luke asked Jesse.

"It was that blamed magazine," Bo said.

"What blamed magazine?" Luke asked.

"The one the man from the Korean Embassy had...the yahoo in the fancy black car. While Uncle Jesse was givin' the man a piece of his mind, Annie was readin' the article about Enos, then she tore it up and just ran out."

Jesse sat down in his chair, leaned his head back, and sighed, trying to wipe the day off his face with his hand.

"Uncle Jesse, you want me to tell him?" Sophie asked, still holding the trash can she had used to clear the pieces of the gossip magazine.

"Maybe we all oughta wait till Daisy and Annie git back down here ta' figure out what's gotta be said. I'm not rightly sure I got the answers."

Luke sidled over to Bo and whispered, "You know what this is all about?"

"I aint' got a clue. All I know is Annie told me her name's not Annie, she read the garbage in that paper and got so mad she ran out of here. Then Daisy came out to get us and now the two of 'em are upstairs."

"Whad'ya mean her name's not Annie?"

Bo shrugged his shoulders. Even though he'd put on his clueless face, behind it was a worried one. Watching Annie descend the stairs behind Daisy, he quickly buttoned his shirt and imagined the next hour going a lot different than it did. Surely there was a simple explanation. When Annie reached the bottom step, he made a move toward her but Daisy's voice stopped him.

"Sit down on the sofa, Bo. Sophie, can you take the kids upstairs for a little while? There are some things Uncle Jesse and my cousins need to know. Luke can tell you later."

"Sounds like a good idea," Sophie said, smiling nervously, as she scooped up Emily in her arms and motioned with her head toward Caleb. "Come on upstairs, Caleb."

"Why can't I stay?" Caleb complained.

"If it's any of your business, Luke and I will tell you later. If it's not, then it's going to have to remain one of life's great mysteries." Uncle Jesse couldn't help expelling a quick chuckle.

Caleb followed his mother in quiet protest. Bo sat on the couch and Annie, who he'd expected to sit beside him, took up a seat on the piano bench across from him, focusing on her hands in her lap.

"What's this all about, Daisy?" Luke asked as he took up a place beside the fireplace with his arms folded. He looked over to Uncle Jesse who seemed to know something more than either he or Bo did.

"Say what you got to say, Daisy?" Jesse asked, settling deeper into his favorite chair.

 _What did she have to say?_ Enos had left it up to her what she would tell the family, and when. She had left so much out the last time she told them 'a story.'

"I guess..." she faltered. Now that the moment of truth was upon her, she wasn't sure how much she should tell them or whether she should leave some parts out. But if she left things out nothing would really make sense. She went to the kitchen table, grabbed a glass of water and a chair, and sat down on it in the middle of the room, then started again.

"I guess I should start at the beginning."

Luke asked, "Shouldn't we wait till later to do this, Daisy?" obviously directed at the fact that Annie, even though she was sort of dating Bo, was sitting in on a Duke family meeting. "No offense Annie..."

Annie was still looking at her hands and mumbled, "None taken." She and Daisy had decided that the family needed to know who she was, and what it might mean to them, sooner rather than later.

"Annie needs to stay," Daisy said and took a deep breath. "I guess I need to start by telling you about Enos and what he's been doing out in L.A."

Bo sat up with a look of consternation on his face. "What's Enos got to do with it?" he asked then suddenly remembered that Annie had gotten upset when she read what was inside the paper – the one that, even though he couldn't see all of his face 'cause of the big print across it, he knew that it was Enos.

"Just about everything, Bo. So, if you'll just be patient, I'll tell you."

Bo slumped back into the couch looking noticeably peeved. Annie still had not made eye contact with him.

Daisy started again.

"About nine and a half years ago, when Enos was a little more than half-way through his year with his training officer, her name is Inez...you remember Uncle Jesse, I told you a little about the training period from his letters... Well, he and his T.O. got involved in this case where people, who were already involved in prostitution, started exploiting kids in a child pornography ring. Enos and Inez worked with one of the women, Kate Broussard, to gather enough evidence to issue a warrant and bust up the ring. Kate's the _woman_ on the front page of that trashy, lying, bottom-feeding rag that poor Mr. Jeong pulled out of his briefcase." Daisy took a drink of water to get the taste of disgust out of her mouth. "Anyway," she continued, "The head of the prostitution ring was a man named Hebert – somebody Kate knew from back in New Orleans. She had gone with him to California and got involved in his...um...business."

"Like Miz Mabel's girls," Bo said.

"No, Bo. Not like that." _Sometimes Bo could be so naive_. "Kate was..." she hesitated, looking over at Annie, knowing how hard this must be on her. But they had agreed upstairs that Daisy should be the one to tell the story. Annie was afraid she would never be able to get through it.

"Doesn't matter. Kate and Enos and Inez got enough evidence against this Hebert guy to put him away for a long time. But somehow, he got out of town before Enos and Inez could serve the warrant and the case went cold for more than nine years. Kate and Enos became good friends after that and she started helping teens and even younger kids who had been sold into prostitution or abused - or worse. Over those next nine years or so, they worked together sometimes because he kind of made a habit of getting teen prostitutes off the street. Didn't make Enos real popular with the people who made money off them. Ya'll know much about human trafficking?"

"I know it exists, especially in the big cities on the coast," Luke said.

"Kate's been working with a non-government organization for the last few years to rescue sex-trafficked teens. And most recently, on a case involving some young girls that were taken from Eastern Europe. One of them was found murdered in Griffith Park and that's how she and Enos and Inez got involved in another case together...sort of. Enos and Inez were the detectives investigating that poor little girl's murder...She was only fourteen years old."

"Enos put all this in those letters he wrote you?" Bo asked.

"No, Bo, he didn't."

"Then how..?" he tried to ask before Uncle Jesse shushed him.

"I still don't see what all this has got to do with us," Luke said.

"I'm getting to that, Luke, just keep your shirt on."

Annie shifted on the hard, piano bench enough that Uncle Jesse and Bo both noticed.

"Miss Annie, you should come over and sit on the sofa, that bench can't be any too comfortable," Jessie said.

Annie mumbled a _'no, thank you'_ and shook her head, still not making eye contact with Bo. If she had, she would have seen that he was getting more than a little peevish about the situation and antsy to get on with it.

Daisy continued. "I guess before I go any further, I should tell ya'll that I left out quite a bit from the original story."

"I'da' bet my life on that," Luke said, sarcastically.

Any other time, Daisy would have thought he was just being the same old grumpy Luke. But he had a right to be suspicious and a family of his own to worry about.

"Well, to start with, I flew to Los Angeles on Halloween."

Only her Uncle Jesse was not surprised, and both Luke and Bo noticed.

"Why?" Luke asked.

"What do you mean 'why?' Because I'm a grown woman and I can do what I want without asking your permission. And because...after I read his last letter, I wanted to talk to Enos."

Luke turned to his uncle. "You knew about this, Uncle Jesse?"

Jesse looked at Daisy before answering. "Well, I didn't know until she was already there an' I still don't know much more than that."

"There's reasons I didn't say anything till now," Daisy said, with a sad, half-smile on her face. "And I'm sorry I couldn't tell you this part before."

"It's alright, Daisy, you asked me to trust you."

"And ya'll will understand better if you just let me get this out without interrupting me all the time." Daisy directed those comments to Luke and Bo. "It _ain't_ a short story. I can't just put it in twenty-five words or less."

"Sorry, Daisy," Luke said, watching Annie move from staring at her hands on the bench to standing and staring out the window. Bo hadn't missed it either but tried not to make her more uncomfortable. He was still struggling with what any of this had to do with her but had the nagging feeling he should.

"This is the hard part because everything happened so fast that I had a hard time keeping it straight myself," she said, then proceeded to chronicle the wild three days she had spent between landing at LAX and landing in Atlanta in early November.

After she had gotten to the part about transferring to her Harley once she and Rosco had gotten within a mile of the house, she realized how unbelievable a story it must be to them - unless they had lived it as she had.

Uncle Jesse's first question was, "Is Enos okay? I mean the broken nose and the concussion and all?"

"Yes, Sir. His nose was mostly healed by the time he and Soonie got married. He still can't remember what happened after he left the charity ball till he woke up in the hospital, but he stopped getting the headaches and he said the doctor cleared him for duty. 'Course that was the day he quit."

She was still not going to tell them that Enos quit so he could go looking for Kate.

"There's something else," Daisy said.

"What in the Sam hill else could there be?" Bo asked, still mind blown.

"The reason I told you all of that was so that you could understand what I'm about to tell you and why you have to keep it to yourselves. And I mean that. Other than Rosco, 'cause he already knows most of it. Nobody outside this family can know any of it. There are things that Enos has to do and if you tell anyone, it could put him and his family in danger. And not just him."

She took a breath and continued, "Back nine and a half years ago, when Kate wanted to bring down Hebert's operation and put him in jail, there was only one thing stopping her. She had to hide something, something really valuable that Hebert knew about and threatened her with every day to keep her in line. Enos found a way to help her do it. When this Hebert took off before the warrant was served and they couldn't find hide nor hair of him, this real valuable thing had to stay hidden for the long term. And now that all this happened, it's more important than ever to keep it secret. The guy was out for revenge against Enos and Kate, but mostly Kate. Enos still thinks he was just collateral damage. And Even though Hebert's dead, and...Kate's missing...there's no telling how many other people were involved or who else might want Kate out of the way...or who are still looking for what she hid." There were still some crucial bits she couldn't tell them, and she suspected there was more Enos wasn't sharing with her – but he had some reason to think they should all still be very careful. They were just going to have to trust her, as she trusted Enos.

Annie, with her head bent, started sobbing.

Bo got a sinking feeling when he suddenly remembered Annie's last words out in the field, _"Annie is what my sister used to call me."_

When Annie turned to face him, her eyes were red and there were tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry I got you involved in this, Bo."

"You said your name wasn't Annie..."

Annie shook her head. "My name is Mignon Broussard. Kate is my sister."


	38. Part 2 - Chapter 38

**Part Two – Chapter Thirty Eight:**

**Los Angeles, California – December 24, 1997 (Pacific Time)**

Aaron pulled out the oven rack to check the brisket. It was the second night of Chanukah and even the house knew there was something missing.

' _Stop thinking like a twelve-year-old,'_ he reminded himself. _You're nineteen.'_

"What was that, Aaron." Inez walked into the room with the mail and slung her tote bag onto a barstool and threw her car keys into the bowl next to the phone nook.

"Just talking to myself."

"Was it a meaningful conversation?" she teased.

"Not really. Anything there for me? I'm expecting something from the summer intern program at Alteryx."

"No, really?" Inez widened her eyes and feigned shock since Aaron had only mentioned it five or ten times since he'd been home for winter break.

"Funny, Mom. You're a laugh riot."

He wished that was true but felt there was something bothering her. This year, the dinner table would be one less than the last eight years. Uncle E had never spent all eight nights with them, but he was always there on whichever of the nights fell on Christmas Eve. A phone call was all he would be able to manage this year.

"Nothing yet," she said. "I'm sure it will come in soon and I'm looking forward to your being around this summer. You didn't apply to a company in Irvine just for me..."

"Noooo...It's a good opportunity so why not kill two birds. I want to spend my summer here."

"You're a bad liar, Aaron. Something you picked up from E, I guess." She smiled. "How's the brisket?"

"Almost done."

"I'm going up to take a shower," she said and headed up the stairs to her bedroom. "Remember what I said about the phone. Don't answer anything that isn't from South Korea. Understand?"

"Still not sure why, but yes, for the millionth time Mom, I understand."

Her voice disappeared into the bedroom, "Just checking."

She told him she had changed the home phone number when she started getting annoying crank calls in the middle of the night. Aaron had accepted that - at first. But now, he was beginning to wonder if there was something more. She may be a tough cop on the job, but to him, she was _breakable Mom_.

That's when he realized how long it had been since he thought of her as 'breakable.'

**Hazzard, Georgia – The Duke Farm - December 24, 1997 (Eastern Time)**

Luke and his new ready-made family living on the farm had been an adjustment for all of them, but especially for Uncle Jesse, Bo, and Daisy. Daisy had moved out to stay with Miz Tisdale until she needed to report to Emory in May. She had convinced Uncle Jesse and the boys that it was for Emma's benefit, as well as hers.

Bo had offered to move into town, but Luke and Uncle Jesse wouldn't hear of it. He'd ramped up his insistence in the four days since they had found out about Annie.

 _It was a good thing he couldn't think of her as anything but Annie, so he didn't accidentally call her by her real name._ He didn't think that would be a problem because it was hard to pronounce without sounding silly coming out of his mouth. _Who names their kid something that has to be pronounced with a French accent anyway?_ Of course, Daisy had told him people in southern Louisiana don't have much of a problem with it.

Bo kicked at a popped-up nail on the front porch with the toe of his boot trying to decide if he should just go in and pack his stuff while everybody was busy and move into the boarding house in town. _"Dangit,"_ he thought, scraping a bit of leather off his left boot with the head of the nail. _"Guess I should at least wait till after Christmas."_

Picking up his jacket from the arm of the swing, he headed out to the Charger and threw the jacket onto the passenger side seat. Taking a sliding leap over the hood for old times' sake, he slid through the window into the driver's seat. Within seconds, he was only a cloud of dust left in the yard.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Christmas Eve in Hazzard was a time for family. And this year, Uncle Jesse's family had expanded somewhat beyond what he had been used to in past years. Like Thanksgiving, there were children in the house, and his eyes gleamed while protecting his ears, with every excited squeal from Emily and every eight-year-old complaint about all the required chores associated with the holiday hoo-hah from Caleb (who Jesse suspected was secretly enjoying the dickens out of).

Jesse and Luke were busy in the kitchen making Jesse's famous crawdad bisque. Even though the tree had been decorated for days, Daisy and Sophie were watching the kids put more crap on the tree than it could possibly hold when Alvin Dobbins arrived on the porch and knocked on the door.

"I'll get it!" Daisy said to anyone who might be listening and got up from the sofa.

When she opened the door and saw through the wire mesh of the screen door who it was, she tried to give him a warm Christmas Eve greeting but couldn't quite find it in her. The man was more of a gossip than Miss Maybelle, although less forgivable, and twice as fast at spreading it as the HazzardNet. She still hadn't quite forgiven him.

"Do I need to sign anything?"

"Sorry, Daisy," he said, feeling the slight chill that wasn't coming from the weather. "It's addressed to your Uncle Jesse."

Without arguing the point with him, she turned, keeping the screen door closed, and disappeared into the kitchen. A minute later, Jesse Duke came to the door.

"You got something for me, Alvin?"

"Yes, Sir, Mr. Duke. It's from Enos all the way from someplace in South Korea called Goyang-si." He said, slaughtering the pronunciation. [In all fairness, he did try.]

Jesse opened the screen door and stepped out onto the front porch. "Didn't ask you who or where it was from, Alvin. Do I need to sign anything?"

"Yes, Sir," Alvin said, and gingerly handed him a yellow and brown pad. As Alvin handed Jesse the small package, there was no mistaking the unspoken words behind the older man's stern expression.

**Hazzard, Georgia – Annie's Place - December 24, 1997 (Eastern Time)**

Annie lived down a narrow lane in a small house off the other end of Mill Creek Road just before it hit Highway 20. The lane, not much more than a cow path, that led back to the house didn't even have a name. Bo wondered how many times he had passed her place while outrunning Sheriff Rosco, or Cletus, in the last nine years without ever really noticing it.

Not being much on books, that was Daisy's thing, he hadn't spent time, or any, at the library. And he couldn't remember if he had ever seen her at any barn dance or hayride or anything else. And she definitely had never come into the Boar's Nest. Until he met Annie in the clinic that day, he had never noticed her. Guess that was the point. To blend into the background. Be invisible. Until good ole Bo Duke came along and messed everything up.

Driving through Hazzard County at the snail's pace of 40 MPH, something he used to swear a race car was never meant for, gave him some time to think.

That day, after Annie had said she was this Kate woman's sister, he'd grabbed her by the hand, pulled her into his room, and slammed the door.

"Why didn't you tell me? Damnit, Annie! Didn't you trust me?"

"Bo...it had nothing to do with trusting you."

"Oh, yeah!"

"Yeah," she said defiantly, crossing her arms.

"Did...Enos warn you about me, I mean..."

"No, of course not. I only talked to him or even met him twice."

...?

"I was sixteen the first time Katie hid me from Etienne...that's Hebert's first name. It was at a Catholic Convent...Don't laugh. I know how cliché' it is, but that's why she chose it. The convent's also a girls' boarding school. She registered me under our paternal grandmother's maiden name." She looked away. "I guess she was making pretty good money..." Her voice trailed off.

Bo put his arm around her.

"It's alright. I need to tell you."

"You don't have to. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I think that's probably why ole' Enos chose Hazzard."

She just nodded and continued, "I was there almost three years before Sister Angelica knocked on the door of my dorm room one night in May 1988. When I got to Mother Superior's office, he was there. He was Officer Strate back then. He wasn't in uniform but he showed me his ID and Mother Superior verified he was there to get me to a safe place."

Bo wanted to tell her she could have come to him but deep down he felt like he knew why she hadn't. "Guess we shoulda' been payin' a little more attention to what Enos was doin' out in L.A. too."

"People lose track of each other sometimes. I was really angry with Katie while I was at the convent school and for a while after that. I had plans to do other things than hiding here in Hazzard. I'm afraid I gave him, Enos, a pretty hard time when he was prepping me for life here," she sighed. "Can't believe how patient he was. Once I had lived here for a few months, I couldn't imagine being anywhere else."

"You know, I don't remember Enos comin' back here after he left in...um '87...till he came back for the reunion," Bo said, obviously trying to work out why Enos wouldn't have at least come by to see them.

"He said there was too much risk for him to let anyone know he was here and it didn't fit the backstory. There was a house and a job waiting for me and he gave me ID, papers, medical history, education history...and a new name that I guess Katie must have picked. Then, he put me on a bus in Atlanta bound for Hazzard. When I got off the bus in town, I had the feeling he was somewhere, hidden, making sure I arrived safely."

"I'm sorry you had to do this all alone for so long," Bo said.

"I wasn't completely alone. He told me how to safely communicate with Katie."

"You've been talking to your sister all this time?"

"Not talking, communicating...and only a few times a year...through the personal columns of the Los Angeles Times. The library has a subscription to the big city papers like Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles. I knew about the raid and the accident. That's how I found out about what happened to Enos and Katie Halloween night."

Guilt that he had not been the man she could have trusted nearly overwhelmed him. "I'm so sorry, Annie."

"Bo, I wasn't alone. Daisy was there."

"I'm glad of that, anyway. You said you met Enos twice?"

"After he put me on that bus, I didn't see him again until this April when he came by the library. He didn't acknowledge that he knew me. He introduced himself like it was the first time we met and said he was donating some books to the library. He put five books on the desk and made sure I noticed that one of them was a volume of Poe's poems, then he said "Pleased to meet you, Ma'am," and then he left...The Poe volume had a recent picture of Katie in it. I was sad when things didn't work out for him and Daisy, but I guess everything turned out for the best."

"I don't remember seein' you at the end of the race."

"That's because you had a couple of girls wrapped around you at the time."

"Oh."

"It's okay, Bo." She put her head on his shoulder and sighed, "I sometimes wonder..."

"Wonder what?"

"If I'm the only one."

~~~~~*~~~~~

After sitting in the General for a few minutes, Bo hurried up the walkway and knocked on the stained-glass door.

"Annie, it's me," he said softly. When there was no response or sign that anyone was headed for the door, he knocked again. Still no response. "Annie?"

Just before his heart nearly stopped, Annie came around the corner of the house. He gathered himself together lest she realize that when she didn't answer...

He didn't want to think about it and jumped over the railing on the porch, swooped his arms around her and held on for dear life.

**Hazzard, Georgia – Back at the Duke Farm - December 24, 1997 (Eastern Time)**

Sophie wiped her hands on the apron and called from the kitchen, "Uncle Jesse, I think the rice is done and the black-eyed peas are ready."

When Jesse came into the kitchen she asked, "Bo and Annie should be here soon, he left nearly an hour ago. Do you think we should put on the biscuits since most everyone is here?"

"Well, Rosco hasn't showed up yet. Man's gonna be a day late and a dollar short for his own funeral. He's supposed to bring the machine for that video thing that Enos sent. And I reckon if it's been this long for Bo and Annie, they got things to talk about so I wouldn't wait for them."

"You think Enos's aunt and uncle will come?" she asked.

"Don't know. I'm sure Frank would want to come but, hard to tell with Judy," he said, with a long-held sadness in his voice. "Let's just hope they do! So, let's you and me go ahead and make them biscuits with everybody bein' here in mind."

Uncle Jesse had been grateful to have a woman in the house again. Since Lavinia died, Daisy had filled the void very well. But she had been on her own, and mostly gone, for years. _He was happy about that, truly he was._ But it had left the farmhouse feeling empty of a woman's warmth and care. Daisy, as wild as she was when she was younger, had kept that feeling in the house.

Now, the farm felt like a home once more. Sophie always made sure there were fresh wildflowers on the table for every meal and that everyone sat down together, at least for supper and Sunday dinners. At the table, there was scolding about not eating vegetables and not-so-good table manners, lunches of bologna and cheese to fix on weekday mornings, always with a package of those curly things that got orange powder everywhere – it was wonderful.

Bo and Annie finally arrived and said hello to Emma Tisdale who was warming her hands by the fire, and to Bertha Jo. She was relaxing on the couch and looking like she was ready to pop any day even though she wasn't due for another three weeks.

"Where's Bubba?" Bo asked.

"On the back porch teachin' Caleb and Emily the _proper_ way to crack pecans. But I'm not real sure how many are gonna' be left for me to make pecan pies tomorrow."

"You need somethin' B.J. I'd be glad to fetch some..."

"I'm fine, Bo. But thanks for offerin."

There was a knock on the door to announce another arrival and Rosco stepped inside carrying an armload of wrapped presents while Flash waddled in beside him wearing a Santa suit and hat. Judy Strate followed Rosco in, shaking her head at the hound and muttering, "What silly things will people come up with next?"

Frank brought up the rear, carrying three more packages.

"Frank, you can just put those over there under the tree. Thank ya' kindly."

Rosco was juggling the packages and paying attention to what Frank was doing with the other gifts (some of them might be breakable) "Tchh tchh, there you go just set 'em down gentle like."

"Can I help Sheriff?" asked the soft sweet southern voice of Sarah Jane Bascom.

Rosco nearly dropped the packages right then and there. He had gone to pure jelly. Sarah Jane reached for the bottom package to steady the load. "I can take a couple of them."

About that time, Emma, Annie, and Bo had joined in to offer their assistance. Daisy swooped in and took the packages Sarah Jane had offered to remove and pretty soon all the packages Enos had sent to the sheriff for distribution were under the tree and Rosco was left flustered and discombobulated in front of the bakery lady.

He realized he was still wearing his hat and quickly removed it, holding it against his chest with a fidgety grip with his left hand and smoothing his hair with his right. He was wearing the suit he had worn to the Atlanta airport to pick up Daisy – the one Sarah Jane, although she had no idea why he needed it, had helped him pick out.

When Jesse caught Daisy spying on them, he made her jump when he tapped her on the shoulder. "You changin' your career from ecology to matchmaker, Daisy? Tried yer hand with Bo and Annie and now you done set your sights on settin' up poor Sarah Jane with Rosco. What'd she ever do to you, anyway?"

She fanned her hand at him. "Oh, Uncle Jesse, Bo and Annie were already in love before I ever knew about her, and Rosco's been hangin' out at the bakery every morning for the last three months."

Uncle Jesse gave her a look that said 'horse manure' but let it go when Sophie alerted him that the last batch of biscuits was ready.

**Goyang-si, Republic of Korea – December 25, 1997 (Korean time)**

Enos swung his legs over the mattress and was met with pain in his heels when they hit the floor faster than he anticipated. He was still getting used to the mattress being on a thin platform close to the floor in the middle of the room. Soonie had tried to convince him to get a bed frame since they were both used to sleeping _above_ the floor. But, no, he stubbornly insisted that if they were going to live in Korea, then they were going to abide by the customs.

The previous day had been eleven long hours of paperwork and meeting rooms at Interpol, to 'on-board' for his new job as a Criminal Intelligence Officer. The job title had been more than he'd even dared hope for; and much more than he expected. His expectations, considering the scrutiny his life had been subjected to since he first applied back in November, had been more along the lines of data gathering and distribution at some cubbyhole computer station in the nether regions at the NCB. That, at least, meant gainful employment in an environment where he could access and monitor yellow notice responses, sightings, anything that resembled information to hone-in on where Kate was.

But Criminal Intelligence Officer meant he would be working directly with branches of, not only South Korean law enforcement but other countries' police forces, including the US, on people smuggling. That included trafficked people, which even Interpol was just now beginning to get a handle on. Better yet, he would be liaising directly with the Los Angeles County police jurisdiction on specific cases, and that included the disappearance of one Katherine Denine Broussard.

It was full light outside when he dragged himself out of the warm bed on Christmas Day – Christmas Day in Korea, that is. Christmas was recognized, and even decorated for, in the ROK, but it was not a major holiday. Everyone had the day off but the day was utilized more as an excuse, although Koreans rarely needed that, to socialize.

The clock said eight in the morning – but that was Korea time. Right now, it was Christmas Eve at two in the afternoon in Los Angeles and five in the evening in Hazzard.

Soonie had been up for an hour getting everything ready. The approval for visitation rights had come the same day he'd found out about the new job. Today, they were finally going to meet Gem for the first time.

He was excited and nervous at the same time. The thing that made Enos most nervous, was that he would be meeting Mun Chung-hee, Soonie's _abeoji_.

But first things first. He would be making phone calls to L.A. and Hazzard in an hour or so and wanted some alone time with his wife before plunging into the day.

**Hazzard, Georgia – Back at the Duke Farm - December 24, 1997 (Eastern Time)**

Christmas Eve dinner at the Duke Farm had been somewhat buffet style due to having so many people – Uncle Jesse counted sixteen and three quarters, including himself _and_ Bertha Jo and Bubba's unborn baby boy. Fetal Ultrasound had been around for over twenty years in the big cities, but only the last couple of years at the Hazzard clinic. Jesse was still amazed that some machine could tell you the sex of your baby long before it was born. When Lavinia was midwiving, the mother tied her wedding ring to a string and hang it over her belly. If the ring swung in a circle, the baby was a girl, if it swung back and forth, the baby was a boy. He suddenly wondered what Lavinia would think of the newfangled method.

He took down Lavinia's picture from the mantle that it still dominated. She had meant so much to him, to them all. He still missed her. She would have loved the new energy in the house tonight. When Daisy called to him and said, "It's movie time," he put the frame back on the mantle among the wedding photos: himself and Lavinia, Enos and Soonie, and the most recent of Luke and Sophie.

Emily sat on Luke's lap and whispered in his ear, "What about presents?"

"Afterwards, I promise," he whispered back.

They all waited, at first patiently, while Rosco fiddled with the machine that would convert the TV into a movie screen. When everyone started getting antsy, Caleb got up and showed Rosco that he had neglected to add the converter to the leads coming out of the video player and where to insert the chip.

"Enos said this was about forty minutes long but there was somethin' special for Uncle Jesse at the end," Rosco said. He had brought his serious side tonight. Possibly to impress Sarah Jane.

The video, narrated mostly by Soonie, who also translated where necessary, started out with a view of Seoul that looked much like Los Angeles at a distance, but with a light cover of snow. Closer in, at street level, it became a tour of pagodas and coy ponds in Ilsan Park. The dancing fountain in the park delighted Emily no end and she asked, more than once, to see it again.

While Soonie provided the overview and history, they were treated with the changing of the guard at _Gyeongbokgung Palace,_ where docents and visitors alike wore traditional _hanbok,_ and then, they got a tour through _Hwagyesa_ a Buddhist Temple.

The _Gwangjang Market_ garnered the most attention from the Hazzardites gathered at the Duke place on Christmas Eve. So many weird and exotic foods at dozens of street stalls. Through the constant chatter in Korean between vendors and customers, they could hear Enos munching on what he called _kogo_ while filming Soonie, who along with most of the local Koreans was dressed in Western-influenced casual, making a purchase of _her_ favorite street food, _Korean Barbeque_. At that point, when the camcorder zoomed in on Enos's wife, Emma Tisdale murmured with an impishly delighted smile, "Well I'll be."

From Seoul, the landscape changed to the satellite city of Goyang, where Enos and Soonie lived, and the house they lived in, the one with, according to Emily, the 'funny looking roof and the dinner table with the legs cut off.'

Luke explained to her that many people in Korea sit cross-legged on the floor when eating. He covered his mouth and whispered an aside to Sophie that he'd like to be a fly on the wall to see how Enos was managing that.

The date stamp on the video changed to December 14 over scenes of forested terrain on the drive north through _Uijeongbu_ , _Pocheon_ towards North Korea. When Enos stopped the car, the camcorder captured the view of a serene range of mountains. They could see hills covered with Mongolian oak that had gone dormant for the winter and then heard Enos's voiceover.

' _It looks peaceful, but out there are hundreds of thousands of live mines spread all over this entire region. So, this is as close as we can get right now. Soonie's cousin, Kim Ji-woon came with me today. He's kind of a Korean War historian, so I'm gonna' let him take over.'_

The camcorder lens turned to show Ji-woon waving at the camera, then the moved away to capture the small village Ji-woon called _Jigyeong-ri_.

' _The Battle of Chipyong-ni,'_ Ji-woon said, speaking in English with a decidedly Korean accent, _'was fought here in February 1951 and is referred to by some as the Gettysburg of Korea. The hill my new cousin and I are here to see today is in the mountain range you are seeing now. The hill itself cannot be viewed where we are.'_

' _Hwasalmeori,'_ he continued, _'which translates to Arrowhead Hill in Korean, is inside the DMZ, which inside the CCZ, which is within the border zone. Getting close to the border fencing or the guard stations is out of the question. Even after forty-five years, not enough mines have been cleared. Our border with North Korea is also the most heavily armed border in the world and we still have skirmishes with the north that break out on occasion.'_

The camcorder panned the area 180 degrees.

' _The UN command called Hwasalmeori, Hill 281, the site of some of the bloodiest battles of the war. My grandfather fought alongside the US and French troops in one of the South Korean regiments. He is still buried up there, somewhere.'_

There was a pause during which they heard Enos ask Ji-woon if he was okay. He responded in Korean that he was fine, which Enos seemed to understand.

' _We are hoping to obtain permission,"_ Ji-woon continued _, 'to get closer within the next few months. Once permission has been granted and we can be assigned a CCZ escort. We will have to wait until the one road in is clear of snow, in the Spring, to get to the top of a hill in the safe zone with some field glasses, to get a better view of Arrowhead.'_

Enos's voice took over the narration.

' _But right now, Uncle Jesse,'_ Enos said, _'this is the closest we can get to where your brother was reported as missing in action in October 1952 and Ji-woon's granddaddy was last seen alive...Uncle Jamie's not alone. The South Korean government thinks there are around three hundred South Korean, French, and US soldiers still buried up there, and one o' these days, they wanna' bring 'em all home.'_

When the video ended, a feather dropping on the floor would have sounded like a clash of thunder and there were tears in Uncle Jesse's eyes. Even Emily recognized the solemnity of the moment and buried her head in Luke's shoulder.

The next hour was spent looking at photo albums with pictures and memorabilia of Uncle Jesse's brother, James Leroy Duke, while Caleb and Emily opened their presents from South Korea.

Until the phone rang.

**Goyang-si, Republic of Korea – December 25, 1997 (Korean time)**

The phone call to Inez and Aaron did not go as well as Enos had anticipated - or hoped. It was nothing he could identify – just a weird feeling. He was still stewing over why he felt like there was something he should understand when Soonie reminded him he had planned to call Uncle Jesse and the family before they left for her father's house. It would already be past seven in Hazzard.

Soonie had opted not to participate in her husband's phone call to the De Pina/Shapiro household. Although she and Inez had managed cordiality, she was well-aware that she had taken away something that Inez had wanted, even if her husband did not understand that. Knowing how she herself would have felt, had their roles been reversed, she gained no satisfaction from twisting the knife.

She did, however, relish being included in the call to her husband's 'family.'

The call was raucous and noisy and the most wonderful thing Soonie had ever heard. She had not understood how much she had longed for the feel of real family until that moment when she was welcomed, without reservation, into the Hazzard County fold. It was a stark contrast to what awaited them at her father's house.

When Enos told everyone about the baby, only Emma Tisdale was not taken by surprise. She declared that she knew it as soon as she saw Soonie at the market.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Their reception at the house of Mun, to put it mildly, had been cold. After it was over, Enos felt as if he'd lived through some perverted version of ' _I Was a Male War Bride_.' The war being between Soonie and her father. For the first time, he understood what he and Soonie were up against, and the increased distance she had put between her and her father by marrying him.

The afternoon had started out with some measure of civility. Enos was careful to follow Soonie's lead about the removal of shoes, which slippers were for guests, and where to stand and how to bow when meeting her father. Much to his surprise and despite her protests otherwise, Soonie made her best effort to honor her father in his own house.

And Mun Chung-hee was civil, barely. All Enos's practice with how to address his new father-in-law, preparation of the gift to present to him, and the etiquette training with Soonie and Ms. Baek had gone for naught. They had walked into a no-win scenario. If not for the court-ordered visitation, Enos was sure they would never have been able to see Gem. And it made Soonie dig in her heels like a pickaxe stuck in a block of cement. On the scale of relative honorifics, the daughter was at the bottom of the list.

The visit with Gem went better, and as well as could be expected. She was a very shy little girl and didn't understand why she couldn't see her _'appa.'_

Mun Eun-kyung, _Gem_ , was three and a half feet tall with black hair, cropped short with bangs, and sported a headband to keep it off her face. She wore glasses too large for her face which could not obscure the fact that she and Soonie had the same beautiful eyes, deep and brown. She wore a green pinafore over a white shirt with a Peter Pan collar, white knee socks, and the ubiquitous slippers.

She took the doll Enos had bought for her and said _gamsahabnida_ when Ms. Baek prompted her but said little else, until Ms. Baek asked her, in Korean, to show her aunt and uncle the garden. This she gladly did, as long as Ms. Baek accompanied them.

Baek Sung-mi had been housekeeper to the Mun household for more thirty-five years. She had also been a nanny to the children of the household, Soonie and her half brother Jae-sung. It was Ms. Baek that had visited them when they first moved to Goyang-si and she had attended their Korean wedding. Poor woman was trying to be fair and loyal to both sides of the battle of wills that would dominate Soonie's life, along with prolonged morning sickness, for the next several months.

When Enos and Soonie arrived home, Soonie was too angry to cry.

"The next time, we can see her again somewhere besides your father's house. The court order only said we can't take her out of the city," Enos said, trying to comfort his wife.

She was apparently too angry to talk to him either because she went to their bedroom and closed the door. It was two hours before she reappeared.

**Santa Monica, California – December 24-25, 1997 (Pacific Time)**

Gordon Thompson sat in his car asking himself why the woman in bungalow number twenty bothered him so much. The 'bungalow' wasn't much more than a stereotypical beach shack in a row of stereotypical beach shacks that had been slightly modernized. He had started his law enforcement career in Santa Monica. Wasn't all it was cracked up to be in the brochures. The city had just as much of a seedy underbelly as L.A., stuff they didn't put in the brochures.

He'd parked in the lot across from her place every night while off duty in the past few days. But it wasn't what he had 'run past her' that night that was digging worry lines into his forehead to go along with the gray hairs he blamed on Strate. It was her analysis, among other things.

He almost started the car to leave and had nearly turned the key when a wrap on the window startled him. He put his right hand on his gun holster and unsnapped it. When he saw who it was, he pressed the window button and before it was even half the way down, he snapped, "Geeze, Elektra. Don't EVER sneak up on a cop like that! What the hell are you doing out here by yourself in the middle of the night?"

She leaned down to make eye contact through the open window and held up a netted carrier with a bottle of wine inside. "I think a better question is, 'what the hell are you doing out here by yourself in the middle of the night?' You might as well have a neon sign above you that spells COP in big bright letters. Do you let all your stakeout subjects sneak up on you like that?"

_Now she was just trying to piss him off and doing a damn good job of it._

"Come on in and I'll open this," she said. Not waiting for his answer, she walked ahead toward her bungalow and pulled out her keys. She didn't even look back when a skateboarder sailed past and checked her out on his way. The guy was still fixated on her posterior as he turned the corner. That was when Thompson overcame the fact that Clarissa Van Der Pelt annoyed the hell out of him, got out of the car and followed her into the bungalow.

Elektra deposited the wine bottle on the kitchenette counter and went to the bedroom, which was separated from the living space only by a louvered partition. When she came out the black wig was gone, replaced by her own long, straight natural brunette mane and she had removed the nose ring.

Thompson had always known the short-cropped jet-black hair was a wig – one of the things that made her mysterious, intriguing, and, yes, sexy – also frustratingly confusing.

"I'm serious, Van Der Pelt, why were you out at midnight?"

Tommy was standing with the flaps of his suit coat flared back by his fists on his hips, his belt holster strapped just behind his right fist. Elektra's take on his body language was that he was trying to make some sort of statement.

"Because I knew you'd be out there. You've been out there at the same time every night for four days. I spotted you the first night."

"I wasn't...I wasn't trying to be inconspicuous."

"So, there was a time before that when you _were_ being inconspicuous? Have you been stalking me?"

"No, I haven't been stalking you," he said, raking his fingertips through his hair. "But you _know_ that."

She gave him a pixie-ish smile and said, "Sit." Then, she went to the kitchen to retrieve two Bordeaux glasses from the cabinet above the sink. Sitting them on the coffee table, she poured each glass a third full of the Napa vintner Cabernet Sauvignon.

" _She knew her wines_ ," he thought, finally obeying the command to 'sit' but said, "You really enjoy making fun of me, don't you? Beer would have been fine."

"You shouldn't make yourself such an easy target," she said and sat on the divan next to him. "And I thought wine would be better for tonight, this morning, whatever."

Elektra took a healthy sip from the glass she had poured for herself and eased into a comfortable position against the cushion. Thompson had both his hands around the bowl of his wine glass, hovering over his knees. He was staring into the glass and swirling the wine around like it was cognac when he felt her palm on his back. He immediately stiffened.

"Relax, Tommy, I know why you're here. Enos is five thousand plus miles away and you need somebody to watch over...to talk to."

Even though he would never tell her that was partially true, he put down the glass and turned to her. "You know that's not why I want to be with you."

"I know it's not the only reason."

"Is it _always_ going to be like this with us?" He threaded his right hand in her hair and pulled her towards him.

When they were close enough to nearly touch, she whispered, "Probably," before he gave up all pride and pretense. He ignored the other reason he was there (that could wait until tomorrow) and lost himself in her mouth, her neck, and every other part of her he had wanted to touch for months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Just a note for a reference regarding military personnel whose remains were still buried underneath Hill 281, Arrowhead as of December 1997. After nearly 70 years, "the first excavation mission inside the DMZ since the armistice agreement" was undertaken by around 100 South Korean troops and forensic experts and began in April 2019 by first clearing mines and then excavation of the hill. "As of June 2019, a total of 456 bone fragments had been unearthed on the ridge, with DNA analysis pending." A plethora of military artifacts were also found buried under the ridge. The six-month project was supposed to be a joint project with North Korea considering Hill 281 is "500 meters away from the Military Demarcation Line (MDL) thanks to the inter-Korean Comprehensive Military Agreement signed on September 19, 2018." Unfortunately, North Korea did not show up to take part in the excavation. Despite South Korea, "being in a technically-at-war situation," the government proceeded with the project on their own without interference from their northern neighbors. (Source: koreanbizwire)


	39. Part 2 - Chapter 39

**Part Two - Chapter Thirty Nine:**

**Los Angeles, California – December 25, 1997**

Turk Adams turned the key in the back door to his house and lingered on the stoop for more than a few seconds. He was coming home to an empty house. He had been coming home to an empty house for nearly two weeks since Shawnee had moved out.

The service weapon went into the nightstand drawer. The keys and badge landed on the top of the nightstand with a thud and he collapsed rather than sat down on the bed. It had been a long month of meticulous planning. He would only have the one day off and then it would be back to the task force and the raid scheduled for Friday. If one thing went wrong, if there was any slip, they would lose the advantage of surprise and any link they could make between the drug chain and the human trafficking chain in Southern California.

It was three in the morning on Christmas day, but he grabbed a beer from the fridge anyway. As much satisfaction as he got from being able to bring in the big fish, especially since it had recently become personal, he still missed the streets and the hands-on action. He had begun to believe that the danger and tension that went with his undercover work was the part of his life Shawnee had found most interesting about him. When his life became more about the big picture, above street level, there wasn't much left they could call a relationship.

He reached for the phone and picked up the receiver, punching in the 706 area code, then having second thoughts, he remembered how early it would be and cut off the call before putting in the rest of the number. Instead, he dialed Enos's number in South Korea.

**Santa Monica, California – December 25, 1997 (Pacific Time)**

Gordon Thompson awoke alone in Elektra's bed. She was wearing his shirt over some skimpy night shorts, leaning over the back of the chair she was sitting in, staring at the wall. The wall had been the host to a single gallery wrapped canvas of pure black that declared in white letters _Dare to think!_.

Covered with ten or twelve sticky notes, it was now a _murder wall_.

~~~~~*~~~~~

At 4:36 am, Thompson pulled himself to a sitting position on the bed. He was supposed to be on duty, along with Angela Kim, for Christmas Day at 7:00 am. He and Kim had taken the twelve-hour Christmas Day shift for the other detectives with families. Angie had plans for the three day weekend she would gain from working on Christmas Day.

At the time he had agreed, Thompson simply had nothing better to occupy his time on Christmas Day and he wanted to do some more digging while De Pina wasn't around to wonder what he was up to. He _had_ been subtly warned to back off.

Now, for the first time in a long while, Gordon Thompson had something, someone, that interested him more than work. He began to study the wall, as well as the other electrifying view.

Elektra had established a few obvious connections between the yellow sticky notes with red string and push pins, making Thompson wonder about how her landlord was going to feel about his wall being used for such a purpose. He reached down and picked up sheets of college-ruled notebook paper with mathematical equations and graphs that had been scattered on the side of the bed she had vacated next to him.

"You're a very strange girl," he said, smiling and thinking' _'Hot - but strange.'_

"Thanks," she said, leaning her chin on her arms crossed over the back of the chair, still intensely studying the wall. "I wouldn't want to be ordinary."

"Well, no worries there."

The top left section of the wall was dedicated to the trafficking raid on October 29, including one note with his name on it. The section directly below that was filled with whatever he had told her about Radmila Kozlova's murder in Griffith Park and a section immediately to the right with facts she knew about Strate's attack. There was even a sticky note in between that read Inez De Pina.

The top middle section was dominated by Kate Broussard with the section directly below that and on the same plane as Strate and the Griffith Park murder were three sticky notes that read EASTERN EUROPE on the left, TAIWAN in the middle, and WESTERN ASIA on the right.

The top right section was for Mollaret slash Hebert. Under Mollaret there were notes about the video store burglaries and finally ended at the bottom right with one lone sticker that read LAZZARO/ATLANTA.

She had tied a string from Strate to the raid, Strate to Griffith Park, and to De Pina, he assumed, because they both investigated the murder. Although in truth, Strate investigated it, De Pina only oversaw the investigation in the beginning, until it was turned over to Rodriguez's unit. When he took the file back, she wasn't involved. There was a string that also tied Strate directly to Kate and Mollaret/Hebert. He got why she was concerned about the consistency factor. Strate had the most connections. In fact, to all the events or players, except Lazzaro. Niki "The Lizard" Lazzaro's only connection, currently, was to Mollaret/Hebert _through_ the VHS tape Elektra had discovered.

The connections directly to and from Kate Broussard were limited to Strate, Mollaret/Hebert, and down to the sticky note that read TAIWAN. That's where the Black Sea Globe Freight ship was supposed to off-load cargo before making its way through the North Aegean and the Sea of Marmara to the Black Sea port of Istanbul. From there, the path of the freighter is less defined. It was apparently rerouted several times due to weather and did not enter the Black Sea through the Dardanelles Strait on its original schedule. The FBI was trying to obtain the actual logs, but the company was not US-based and not subject to FBI scrutiny.

Thompson studied the connections Elektra had made between Strate, Kate Broussard, and Mollaret that had already been made before the case of Strate's attack and Kate Broussard's disappearance had been broken up between different jurisdictions – the FBI, the GBI, LAPD Major Crimes. She had added two or three elements. There was a question mark, and the words WEAK CONSISTENCY, beside Strate's attack.

"So, you agree with me? Strate's attack doesn't fit the model."

"I do – and I don't. It fits but it doesn't fit. Have to consider variables, coincidence, and factors not yet considered, identified, or classified – the different levels of connection. Enos is the only one that wasn't critically, or fatally, injured, or has disappeared – that's the variable. You said yourself, if it was a cartel or criminal organization, or even just Mollaret slash Hebert, we'd be putting flowers on a grave. The attack on him is the only event that doesn't _completely_ fit the pattern...But, the connections are so strong in favor of the model that I can't explain why he is still alive and well. But he is."

"And these?" He asked, holding out the wad of papers toward her.

"Just working out some statistical analysis - formulas for checking bias versus consistency. That," she said, pointing to one of the graphs, "is a Consistency Estimator – Weak Consistency versus Strongly Consistency. These are probability factors." Again, she pointed to a set of formulas on the graph. "...Um, mathematically eliminating the least likely..."

"Trying to dumb it down for me?"

"That's not what..."

"It's okay, I took some logic courses that included statistical analysis in college. And they teach something similar in 'cop school' - but _nothing_ like this. So, please, dumb it down. I won't be offended. But I should warn you, there might be a stupid question or two...or three."

"The only stupid question is the one that you should have asked and didn't."

Thompson slid up behind her, rested his chin on her shoulder, and put his arms around her waist. Then, he noticed a pile of red sticky notes stuck to the chair back.

"Okay, then. Number one stupid question...What are these?" he asked, flipping one of the bright neon-red notes with his finger.

"Wild cards."


	40. Part 2 - Chapter 40

**Part Two - Chapter Forty:**

**Hazzard, Georgia – The Duke Farm - December 25, 1997**

Around noon, after calls and Christmas wishes from Coy and Vance had come and gone, and presents had all been opened, Bo and Luke offered to get Christmas dinner on the table. After all, Daisy, Sophie, and Annie had prepared the meal – Bo said it was the least they could do. He was trying hard to be the man he wanted Annie to see.

When dinner was over, Caleb jumped up from the table and started for the parlor when Sophie stopped him. "Caleb, excuse yourself, please."

"But Mom, I want to practice with my new bow."

She intensified her gaze on the boy. "It's a small thing, Caleb. You could have done it twice in the time it takes to argue about it."

"Okay, 'scuse me."

"Yes, ma'am," Luke instructed.

"Yes, ma'am, 'scuse me," Caleb said. "Now can I go?"

Luke smiled. "Get your bow, and me and Bo'll show you how to use it."

Caleb beamed. "Yes, sir!" He high tailed it for the parlor where he had left the spiffy new compound bow Luke and Sophie had given him for Christmas, after much discussion and debate with Sophie about his age and safety.

Luke kissed Sophie and said, "We'll teach him the safe way to use it, won't we Bo?" The last was a reminder to his cousin that from now on, dynamite was for boulders and not to be taped to arrow shafts to blow up outhouses.

"Promise, Sophie," Bo said, crossing his heart. He bent over Annie and kissed her on the forehead. "Wanna' come?"

"I need to help clear the table," she said.

"You go ahead, Annie," Sophie said, "Keep them on the straight and narrow."

Daisy laughed and agreed.

Once the four of them were out of the house, Sophie and Daisy started clearing what was left of Christmas dinner from the table.

"You should take the rest of that pie to Emma, Daisy. And the rest of the ham," Uncle Jesse said, "can go in the freezer for New Years Day. To go with the cornbread, black-eyed peas and cabbage."

Daisy smiled. "Just like always, Uncle Jesse." She kissed him on the cheek. "Now you get out of our way and go out on the front porch and watch the kids. And I'm not just talking about Caleb."

"I think I'll do that, sweet girl. Wonder what Enos will have for New Year supper this year?"

"I think, in Korea, they celebrate a different New Year – based on the lunar calendar - later in January," Annie said. "I doubt they'll have cornbread and black-eyed peas, but I'm sure there will be kimchi on the table. So, at least they'll have the cabbage."

He smiled thinking of tall, lanky Enos Strate sitting cross-legged on the floor and eating fermented cabbage with chopsticks. Just seemed too much like something out of one of Enos's favorite comic books.

Walking through the parlor he spotted Emily playing with her Pet Doctor Barbie® and stooped down to look at the doll. "She's a pretty thing, that's for sure."

"She's a doctor for aminals. That's what I'm gonna' be."

"So I hear, darlin.'" He ruffled her hair and struggled to get up, using the cushioned chair to steady himself.

"You okay Unca Jesse?"

"I'm just dandy, Emmy. Don't you worry your little head about me and practice at bein' that 'aminal' doctor."

"Unca Jesse, you think Daddy Luke will take me on the tractor after he shows Caleb how to use that bow thingy?"

"I think if you asked Daddy Luke to pull down the moon for you, he'd try to do it," he said and winked at her.

Moving slowly out onto the porch, he lowered himself gingerly into the swing to watch Luke show Caleb how to pull the bowstring while Annie was content to sit on the steps to watch. They heard the phone ring and Daisy talking to someone in California.

"Must be Turk Adams again," Jesse said to Annie. "He's called a few times in the past couple of weeks to check up on things."

Caleb was getting frustrated right off the bat, struggling to pull back the bowstring enough to set the arrow.

Bo said, "You know when Uncle Jesse over there," he pointed at the front porch, "first taught us to use a bow, we didn't have these fancy things. Took us a while to get used to 'em too – and we were all grown up. Here, let me loosen the tension just a little. I swear I think they tighten the tension on these just to make people hot and bothered."

Once the tension was adjusted, it was much easier for Caleb to pull back the string.

"But that's for babies."

"Don't' you worry, Caleb," Luke said, "once you get the feel of it, we'll start tightening up the bowstring a little at a time. Pretty soon, you'll be able to hit a target dead center at full tension from thirty yards. Bullseyes, that is, nothin' living." Luke added the last just in case Sophie was listening in. Her acquiescence to giving Caleb the bow was with the promise that it be made clear it wasn't for hunting, only for target practice.

Jesse sat in the swing and imagined all the times Bo, Luke, Coy, Vance, and Daisy, and Enos were growing up on the same earth that Luke was now teaching his stepson – and how much had changed, just in the past year.

They had all grown up to be good people, friends when one was needed, protectors when the family was threatened and had stuck together through all the adversity that had come their way. He had no doubt that whatever new challenges lay ahead for them, they would all weather it like Dukes – which he also credited mostly to Lavinia.

She had been much on his mind of late. He was tired. Thinking of her usually picked up his spirits and his energy. Although she had always lingered in the smell of the freshly laundered sheets and pies baking in the oven, she had somehow re-entered the house in other ways in the last few weeks, he could feel her everywhere. The image of Lavinia's face when she found out Daisy and Enos had dyed her best tablecloth black* suddenly popped into his head. The fact that she had taken it out the next Halloween and used it on the apple-bobbing table was a testament to how she could craft a silk purse out of a sow's ear and make a positive out of any situation.

He could see her next to Daisy and Sophie in the kitchen, quietly guiding their hands while they made her special cookies for the Christmas bake sale – next to Bo as he navigated the uncharted waters of real honest-to-goodness love - next to Luke who was trying his best to be a good husband and father. He believed she was watching over Coy and Vance, and Enos's new family – so far away.

A new century was just around the corner and new life was coming into the world. While the sounds of life surrounded him, he dozed off with a tune thrumming in his head, thinking of Lavinia. Like a hymn on Sunday, she filled his thoughts.

She ** _wasn't far, just close by, through an open door, work all done, care laid by..._

**Goyang-si, Republic of Korea – December 28, 1997 (Korea Time)**

"If I could make a list of things

To say before you left,

It would be filled with the smallest talk

And words I should have kept.

For everything you've done,

I would write all the 'thank yous'

And all the 'I'm sorrys.'

But throughout the list

One thing I will never send,

Because, if there is no 'goodbye'

Then, there is no end."

 _Untitled_ – by ladyawesomesauce

The phone call had come from Sheriff Rosco to tell Enos that Uncle Jesse had passed, peacefully, on Christmas Day, surrounded by family. Daisy had not been able to do it. Neither Bo nor Luke could bring themselves to be the ones to tell him either.

The obituary had followed.

Jesse L. Duke

Jesse L. Duke, age 77, passed peacefully from this life on Thursday, December 25, at his farm in Hazzard County, Georgia. Jesse was born May 11, 1920, to Henry Lucas Duke and Barbara May (Bennett), and graduated from Hazzard High School in the class of 1937. In 1938, he married the love of his life, Martha Lavinia Cook of Pruitts Corners, who preceded him in death.

Jesse was a retired farmer, a member of the Hazzard Ridge-Runner Association, and Chairman of the Hazzard Reunion Committee. During World War II, he enlisted in the United States Navy where he held the rank of Machinist's Mate, 2nd Class. He lived his life as an example to others and never turned away anyone who was in need. Jesse was a loving husband and uncle, and a trusted friend to all who had the privilege of knowing him.

Survivors include two brothers; Harry and John; seven nephews, Vance, Jeb, Luke, Coy, Jud, Gaylord, and Bo; one niece, Daisy; and numerous friends.

A memorial service will be held at Hazzard Town Hall on December 27, at 1:00 pm. All who wish to pay their respects to 'Uncle Jesse' are invited to attend. A private memorial service will follow immediately at Pine Ridge Cemetery, where he will be laid to rest beside his wife, Lavinia.

In lieu of flowers, the family asks that donations be made to the Hazzard County Children's Home, the Hazzard County Library, or the Hazzard County Clinic.

~~~~~*~~~~~

The three snow-capped peaks of Bukhan Mountain watched over the northern periphery of Seoul capital area which included Goyang city in the province of Gyeonggi. The bow across the strings of Sonnie's soulful violin filled the quiet neighborhood within Goyang city that Enos and Soonie currently called home. It was the first time she had played since being back in South Korea. There was little else she could do to comfort her husband.

Later in the afternoon, seven of their neighbors showed up at their door in black or dark-colored _hanbok_ with bowls of spicy soup, meat, fish, rice, kimchi, nuts and tangerines. Always with a bow in unspoken honor of the loved one who had passed, even though they had no idea who that was. _Amazing Grace_ and what it represented was universally recognized. The mournful way Soonie had played it had left no doubt. Seemed food for mourning was just as universal.

Enos and Soonie returned the bow to everyone who came to the door and took the envelope containing money that usually accompanied the food. Even Soonie had been surprised by the gesture, but she had reminded Enos when the first neighbor had arrived, that it would be an insult to refuse the money offering and that they would send it to the Children's Home in Hazzard.

His father, Otis Strate, had died thirty years ago – a death never resolved. He'd had expectations that Uncle Jesse would be there, in his father's stead, to welcome his firstborn into the world. It was the loss of that for which he grieved the most.

It was only when Ms. Baek showed up at their door, bringing _bulgogi_ and with Gem in tow that he finally broke down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We know Denver Pyle, who played Uncle Jesse, died on Christmas Day, 1997 after a battle with cancer. Because I know how the battle is fought, and how it is often lost, I decided to take give him a more peaceful passing.
> 
> Uncle Jesse's obituary was written in collaboration with WENN9366 – her contribution was tremendously helpful.
> 
> *The reference to Aunt Lavinia's best tablecloth being dyed black by Enos and Daisy comes from The Story of Us by WENN9366.
> 
> **The italicized passage is from the song, Goin' Home. Dvorak's Symphony 9. Largo theme was adapted in the spiritual-like song "Goin' Home" (often mistakenly considered a folk song or traditional spiritual) by Dvorak's pupil William Arms Fisher, who wrote the lyrics in 1922 – Wikipedia. It was also one of the pieces Soonie played at the Charity Ball on Halloween night.


	41. Part 2 - Chapter 41

**Part Two - Chapter Forty One:**

_**Washington, D.C. – August 2000** _

When Enos came out of the restroom, Tyrone Lambert was still tapping away on his laptop, adding to his article for the L.A. Times.

The summary of his testimony had been filed on Friday afternoon when they arrived in D.C. and was now set in stone. Having to force his written and oral testimony into the five-minute time limit was a challenge that he didn't think he would have been able to manage without Ty and Cooter. He had to constantly remind himself to refer to Cooter as either Congressman Davenport or "Ben" while in the presence of Ty, or anyone else in D.C.

Ty had been his sounding board and editor for the summary he would deliver in about an hour, and had assisted him to craft the very personal experience into something that would be suitable for the congressional record; very structured and clean, and nothing like the very messy and dirty business that was the modern version of slavery.

The hearing was preparation for debate scheduled for mid-September and focused on one item of contention between the Senate and House, _relating to obtaining visas for victims of trafficking without numerical limitation_. It was a tool Enos felt strongly needed without a cap or at least one that was higher. The notion that the number of trafficked victims to the United States, either as forced or coerced labor or as sex workers, could be capped at 5,000 per year was something he found grossly understated. But he understood the argument on the other side as well. The visa policy could be abused. He had seen that side of the problem as well.

On the cab drive into the Capitol, Ty had asked a typically 'reporter' question that he hadn't answered.

"If you could change one thing about the last three years, what would it be?"

The answer, of course, was that _he would find a way to save her._


	42. Part 2 - Chapter 42

**Chapter Forty Two:**

**Taipei, Taiwan – January 3, 1998**

The used car market in Taiwan, in the Republic of China _(not to be confused with the Peoples Republic of China)_ was at its *peak in 1998, drawing vehicles from all over the globe, including the US. There were so many opportunities that importers for car auctions had stacks of cargo carriers filled with cars that were sometimes not unpacked for months.

However, one container that was earmarked for the auction block in April was opened early due to the smell emanating from it. When the owner of the container _TGUH 759933 O 45G1_ cut the seal and surveyed the inventory, he was met with a grim discovery. The odor had been the smell of death.

The body of a male in the trunk of a classic 1967 Royal Blue Ford Mustang Convertible was wrapped in plastic and badly decomposed due to the heat in the container.

The only thing on the container owner's mind was, _'What a waste of a great car.'_

**Somewhere in Turkey – January 3, 1998**

What you don't know WILL hurt you.

For several days now (she estimated since Christmas) once Kate Broussard was finally moved to a more permanent location, she had not been chained any longer. The new bunch of captors, to whom, she assumed, she and several others had been sold, had moved them by night to this encampment. Including herself, there were eleven women in all. She estimated that at least five of the other females were under sixteen and the others varied in age from nineteen to twenty-five. She estimated herself to be the oldest and wondered what they had wanted with her.

The first day the eleven of them arrived at the compound - situated somewhere in the middle of 'Nowhere,' Turkey (she guessed, considering the clothing and architecture) – they had all been allowed to shower if one could call it that, and were issued new clothes. She had been wearing the same clothes for at least two months by her estimate of the time since she had been abducted. _Abducted._ _Betrayed is more like it._

The only resemblance to bathing in the past two months had been the occasional bucket of water thrown on her. She had learned early to move into the onslaught headfirst to keep down the mites, the itchy scalp, and the matting. The effort did little to relieve any of it. The clothes, that she'd had to nearly peel off under the cold shower, smelled of sweat, urine, and excrement, and had begun to stick to her skin in places. She had a yeast infection for sure, not to mention a UTI. The pain and itching were enough to drive a person mad. She was sure there were other things wrong with her but they weren't so pronounced or annoying. Now she was suffering from sleep deprivation because of the constant itching.

Although terrorized and spat upon, at least she hadn't been assaulted in all that time. Yet. Not like many of the others, the younger girls and women, whose terrified screams she'd had to bear until they turned into sobs and moans after the rapes were over. Again and again and again. It was only carrying herself out of that grimy hole through thoughts of her sister and more innocent days that had kept her from ending it all. That, and not wanting to abandon the children who were being terrorized and raped only a few cells away.

She screamed inwardly again at the thought and made herself a solemn vow. It was that vow that would sustain her.

~~~~~*~~~~~

She knew she had been drugged – Scopolamine, Ketamine, something in the Benzodiazepine family, also known as _date rape_ drugs. Scopolamine was called 'Devil's Breath.' Those were the drugs of choice for traffickers - _and lying bastards like Joe Lance_.

 _How could she have been so_ **stupid** _to think she had it under control? Why hadn't she told Enos, or somebody, what she was doing earlier?_ She knew the answer, of course. Enos was the only one she knew she could trust, implicitly, without question.

But none of that would do her any good, at the moment, except give her incentive to live and get the hell out of wherever this was and bring that worthless use of skin down along with Etienne and whoever it was that he was dealing with in Atlanta.

She should have brought Enos into her confidence, but he had already been through enough thanks to her, and he was the only other person who knew about Mignon and the only one who knew where he had hidden her. She had given Mignon a new name. The rest she had trusted to Enos Strate.

When it was done, he had given her a key and told her if anything happened to him, there was a safe deposit box with all the information she needed to find Mignon. She had committed the name of the bank and the box number to memory so there would be no paper trail. He had already set up her authorization - everything she needed to access the box. She did what she did on her own because she couldn't risk anything happening to her and Enos. _If they both died - Mignon would be out there somewhere, vulnerable and alone._

~~~~~*~~~~~

The night she was taken, she was supposed to be meeting Lance.

She laughed contemptuously at both herself and the thought. _Detective/Lieutenant Joseph Lance, LAPD Major Crimes. Legit credentials – but as dirty as a cop can get_.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she became...at him, at herself, at a world that both created and tolerated such monsters.

Lance had approached her a few weeks before Halloween to ask for her help in gathering intel on Victor Mollaret. He was building a case against the asshole she knew as Etienne Hebert – or so he said. She had seen through his story after the first couple of days and thought she had turned the tables on him by playing him. She had even had sex with him to instill some sort of bond, a level of confidence that he had fooled her.

She hated every second of his hands on her but never thought of anything but exposing him for what he was. _'Apparently,'_ she thought, _'she wasn't as good an actress as she thought she was.'_ Or she was so far from the person that she was nine years ago that she couldn't fake it anymore. Whatever the reason, Lance must have figured out what she was up to.

The last two months in the depths of Hades had given her a great deal of time to think – and plan. It no longer mattered to her what _her_ fate was – she deserved whatever it would be for being so stupid.

**But she would be damned if she would let them win.**


	43. Part 2 - Chapter 43

**Part Two – Chapter Forty Three:**

_**Los Angeles, California** _

"I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone.

But though you're still with me,

I've been alone all along.

When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears.

When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears.

And I held your hand through all of these years,

But you still have...

All of me."

 _My Immortal_ , Evanescence

"The fewer people at LAPD involved, the better."

The lieutenant had said it without any further explanation, even after Inez had asked if he was suggesting that someone in LAPD was involved or was leaking information. He hadn't committed to anything; hadn't told her anything she didn't already know - which only made her more focused in that direction. The look he had given her was strange like he knew something more than he was telling. She left his office at Major Crimes with more questions than answers.

She knew Thompson was up to something but hadn't interfered with him investigating on his own – even though he had been doing it behind her back. Someone had to do something – she couldn't. Someone else. Someone who had a vested interest in the truth, not just bagging a high-value target like Niki Lazzaro. The investigation seemed to be stalled. There were too many separate hands in the pie. Identification of Frank Crum's body had just added another piece of a puzzle that seemed to be expanding with every piece discovered. She had made sure Thompson was able to gain full access to the case file and the autopsy. It was all she dared do.

As long as her fingerprints weren't on the investigation, they might _all_ be safe.

Those were the thoughts consumed her while she drove home. Turning the key in the lock to her back door, she leaned into it and breathed hard, willing herself to go in.

When she was able to turn the knob, she was met with nothing more, or less, than she had expected. Except for the lights of the clock on the oven and the microwave, the kitchen was dark. That dark emptiness stretched through to the living room and up the stairs. A shaft of cold white from the security globes on a nearby electric pole slunk through the window panels of the front door and cast spectral shadows into the foyer...

...into a house that was already filled with ghosts that wouldn't leave and gave her no peace.

_**Boston, Massachusetts** _

Aaron put his letter to _Goyang-si_ in the mail, wondering, again, if he should have mentioned...

_What could Uncle E do from thousands of miles away?_

_**Santa Monica, California** _

Turk Adams parked Enos's truck in the lot across the street from the address that Gordon Thompson had given him and took his service pistol out of the glove compartment. Rarely did he wear a suit to task force meetings, choosing instead to wear his uniform, but even the office casual he sometimes wore was a bit more than the low profile street clothes he'd chosen for tonight – more like he would wear to an undercover drug meet.

Texting took awhile with a mobile phone and he avoided the arduous process whenever he could. _"Damn, somebody needs to find a better way,"_ he thought. But Thompson had asked him to signal when he arrived so they would expect his knock on the door. He kept the message short and with as few clicks as possible by clicking numbers for 'here.'

A skateboarder narrowly missed him as he crossed the street to ring the buzzer of #20. The young detective who Enos had said was 'a good cop, but draggin' around some kind of millstone' opened the door.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Ten minutes later, after introductions were made, Turk stood in front of the wall in Elektra’s bedroom with his left hand wrapped around the neck of a Heineken. He flipped up one of the sticky notes with his right index finger and stepped back to take it all in again.

In spite of his doubts that Thompson and his girlfriend could show him anything that hadn’t been done, or thought of, by him, Enos, Enos’s former detective unit, or the FBI, he said, “Okay, I’m impressed. Explain it to me. I mean, I get the picture, but I want to know how you got...,” he walked back to the wall again and peeled off one of the neon-red sticky notes that were scattered over the wall, “...here.”

Thompson nodded to Elektra. “She’s the brain behind this plate of spaghetti.”

Rolling her eyes, she started out, “Tommy provided some of the detail to fill in the blank spaces in my original diagram.”

“You don’t want to see the algorithms believe me,” Thompson interjected.

“As I was saying,” she continued, “it started out very small, with just bits and pieces and some wild cards. We’ve expanded it since then to include more questions and more focused wild cards, paths of investigation no one else has thought of. At least, that’s what Tommy tells me.”

“I checked, Lieutenant, none of the investigations have come up with anything close to this,” Thompson confirmed.

“Walk me through the process...but you can leave out the algorithms,” Turk said, taking a swig of the beer, “and you might as well call me Turk. _Lieutenant_ seems a bit too official for what we seem to be doing here.” He made a circle with his hand at the wall.

Thompson knew about the close relationship, going back eighteen years, that Strate and Adams had. It was legendary, apparently. He, himself, had never formed those kinds of close relationships with his fellow officers. He’d heard it said that Strate would cut off his right arm for Adams, and vice versa. That’s what he was counting on. The fact that he was beginning to understand it now was mind-boggling, considering that up until recently, _all-things-Strate_ made him want to bang his head against the wall. They needed someone they could trust. Besides the fact that Adams had rank that could access files that would be closed to a lowly detective second class, he was in drug enforcement and could work outside the scope of the main investigation. Icing on the cake.

“Yep, got it.” Thompson motioned to Elektra and mouthed, _‘you’re on.’_

“We started,” she said, pointing at various parts of the new wall I, “with everything we know about the events, photos, interrogation notes, statements, phone records, police reports, and forensics. The obvious connections are the red strings. And Enos seems to be the nexus of the greatest number of those, some of which may, or may not, be relevant or at least not be significant. Beyond that, there are other events and circumstances that are related to him, or Kate, that need to be eliminated. Those are the red stickers.”

Turk took inventory of the red notes, some of which were in the form of questions:

 ***** Kay Mun’s brother’s plane crash in Central Africa Oct 27, 1997

 ***** Did Kate fake her disappearance?

 ***** Was Kate doing something she didn’t tell Strate until the night he was attacked and she disappeared? Loss of memory – only they know.

 ***** What was Kate’s prior commitment that kept her away from the Halloween Ball?

 ***** Auto accident – Enos and Tommy Oct 29, 1997 – immediately following trafficking raid Oct 29, 1997 – potentially fatal for both

 ***** Auto accident – Strate and De Pina May 14, 1988 – soon after Hebert investigation and disappearance April 29, 1988 – potentially fatal for both/nearly fatal for De Pina

 ***** Strate shot on SWAT duty September 15, 1996

 ***** Consistency with Kate Broussard’s disappearance – only supported by Warren Underwood statement

 ***** 1988 Investigation and warrant for Hebert (Mollaret)

 ***** Who killed Frank Crum, aka 2 x 4

*Who set the fire that killed Mollaret/Hebert?

 ***** Where was Lazzaro from April to May 1988 and June to November 1997? Surveillance by FBI/GBI? Open investigations?

Beyond that, bright yellow string had been added connecting the trafficking raid directly to Mollaret and then directly to Lazzaro. Another connected the trafficking raid victims to both Mollaret and Frank Crum. Yet another connected Crum to Mollaret and then to Radmila Kozlova’s murder.

“The yellow string indicates connections we _want,_ cancel that, _need_ to confirm,” Thompson said.

After mulling it over for some time, during which Thompson brought him another beer, the first thing Turk did was take off the red stickies that read, ‘Did Kate fake her disappearance?’ and the one that read, ‘Kay Mun’s brother’s plane crash’ explaining that, “The first is ridiculous. The second, according to Enos’s information through Interpol, the plane was brought down by rebels; and crash investigators determined that Doctor Mun was on that plane for humanitarian reasons that had nothing to do with the pilot smuggling blood diamonds. He got on the wrong plane at the wrong time.”

He also ripped off the note about Enos being shot in ‘96. “Ballistics determined the bullet ricocheted and he was not targeted. Not even in the line of fire – just a freak accident.” Seeing the look on Thompson’s face and noticing the X scrawled onto the back of each, he added, “But...you had already eliminated those, right?”

“Yep. Just left them up there as control samples. Elektra’s idea. To see what you would take down and what you would leave. What’s left is what we think we need to pursue. For whatever the reasons, I don’t think anyone else is, or at least not most of the more...wild ‘wild cards.’”

Turk leaned up against a chair, crossed his arms, and breathed heavily. Then he asked Elektra, “You got some more of those red sticky notes?”

Ten minutes and five red sticky notes later, Turk attached, each with only four words ‘Overlapping Columbian Drug Connection,’ to Mollaret/Hebert, Niki Lazzaro, two of the suspects arrested in the trafficking raid (Jared Sloan and Shane Blessing), and the owner of Downtown Movie Rentals (one of the five video stores that had been robbed the previous August).

Then he added two more names to the wall, with arrows pointing to Niki Lazzaro: Elias Malik (deceased) and D.E. Kincaid (deceased). Darcy Kincaid had died by violence in Hazzard while Enos was still a deputy there. When he left, his next two calls would be to South Korea and, then, to Hazzard.

“So, what’s with _this_ note?” He pulled off the note that declared a WEAK CONSISTENCY between Enos’s attack after the time they had isolated for Kate Broussard’s abduction from her apartment. Turk had long ago stopped thinking of it as a ‘disappearance.’

“That’s _all_ Elektra,” Thompson said.

“I agree that his attack is directly connected to Kate’s. But no one can explain _why_ he’s still alive when nobody else is.”

“Oh, Kate’s alive,” Turk said, emphatically.

“You don’t think it’s wishful thinking...”

“Not at all. Man might be a _cockeyed optimist_ about a lot of things just because that’s who he is...a blessing _and_ a curse...but...even Enos Strate wouldn’t chuck everything he’s worked for or put _everything_ on the line to go after her if he wasn’t stone cold sure she was alive. The ledgers referencing the same date as the date the cargo ship that carried Crum’s body to Taiwan in the trunk of that Mustang cinch it for me.”

Thompson nodded and said, “I was skeptical at first – about the coincidence theory. But the more I thought about it, the more the idea that _something_ kept Mollaret from making good on his threats to take Strate out along with Kate. I’m working on finding out what that might have been – maybe we can find a witness that wouldn’t come forward for some other reason – because he, she, or they, had something to do with the actual attack. Somebody that can link Mollaret directly.”

“There’s something else,” Thompson said. “We know that there was nothing in Strate’s phone records that was unexpected. However, Kate’s cell phone records listed seven calls in the two weeks before she disappeared that no one has been able to track down. They were likely all from pre-paid phones that are no longer active and tracking them to the manufacturer has been a dead-end...The phone records for the numbers are sealed. Not even a court order can unlock them. Makes them look...official,” Thompson added.

“And that’s why this cloak and dagger meet?” Turk asked although it was as much a statement as it was a question.

Thompson simply nodded.

“Agreed. While you run down these leads, and your accident after the raid,” Turk said, as he pulled off all but one of the wild card notes from the wall and handed them to Thompson, “and I’ll work on the original ‘88 file on Hebert – and the accident,” he said, pulling off the last red note, “with Enos and Inez. They never found the car, or the driver, that sideswiped them.”

When Turk left the bungalow, he noticed a group of skateboarders still rolling up and down the beach walk. One of them was the same kid that had nearly knocked him down when he arrived.

_**Goyang-si, Republic of Korea – January 30, 1998 (Korean Time)** _

Of all the sights Enos thought he would never see, it was the view he had from the floor by their bed at four in the morning – watching Soonie pretend to sleep.

The first week, she had tried to get up with him, make coffee, and send him off with a kiss. Eventually, the morning sickness, that she still couldn’t shake, had gotten the better of her and had worn her out.

He would be later going in today than usual. So many things were on his mind. He nearly reached over to ask her to stop pretending but pulled his hand back.

Soonie would be by herself with Gem this weekend. He would miss spending time with the little bespectacled pixie. They had bonded over the weirdest thing. The breakthrough had come on a Saturday afternoon thirteen days ago. After two visits at her grandfather’s house, they had taken her out of the house to see Anastasia – in Korean of course.

~~~~~*~~~~~

_While they watched, with Gem in the seat between them, Enos silently thanked whoever it was that was responsible for adding English subtitles for the movie’s Korean release. Nearly at the beginning of the movie, that one song finally put context to the most beautiful thing he had ever heard a little more than two months before._

_After the movie, Soonie was tired and afraid that she would not have the wherewithal to contend with her father’s disapproval tonight, just in case he should be there. So, Enos returned Gem to the house, only two blocks away, by himself. When they arrived, Ms. Baek confirmed that Mr. Mun was, indeed, not at home._

_The economic crisis in South Korea was not good and Mr. Mun’s business was in question – that much he knew. He only learned much later that Soonie’s father had been at some meeting with the merchant bank that carried his company’s loan and that it hadn’t gone well._

_Enos couldn’t have avoided knowing what was going on regarding the financial crisis even if he’d wanted to – first through Soonie, then, through the unrest that dominated both the news (English language and Korean) and the law enforcement community. The country was on edge and fallout from the crisis impacted everyone._

_None of that affected tiny Eun-kyung. That wasn’t the problem. She had been at a boarding school in Seoul until her father was killed. She wasn’t only having to get used to the fact that her father would never again walk through the door. She was now expected to act differently while she lived in her grandfather’s house. Ms. Baek had confided to them that when Gem lived with her father, the environment was much different, much less formal, more...fun. It was the reason, she believed, that her beloved Jae-sung, whom she had raised since he was born, had left the care and upbringing of Eun-kyung to his sister._

_When they arrived, Gem was so keyed up by the experience of the movie that she retrieved the doll they had given her from her room and proceeded to show the husband of her father’s sister a secret part of the garden; pretending the doll was the Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia and humming what she could remember of the melody for ‘Once Upon a December.’_

“ _Aunt Soonie can play that song, the one you liked,” he whispered down to her, in Korean, and pretended to play a violin. He knew he had likely misused the Korean word for ‘aunt,’ but there were so many words that described specific family relationships that he got lost in them sometimes. He’d been in Korea a month before he realized he had addressed Soonie’s aunt in San Francisco incorrectly. But bless her heart, she had never corrected him. Thankfully, Gem had gotten the idea and apparently also forgiven his ignorance._

_Gem curtsied, the way she had seen them do it in the movie, and Enos returned it with a royal bow. Without thinking, he scooped her up in his arms and began dancing with her, and her doll, the way they had done in the movie. They made several circle-turns that made Gem giggle when he spotted Mr. Mun watching them – a stern, imperious expression of disapproval on his face. It was the same look he had used when first they had met._

_He immediately put Gem down next to him and they both bowed to the master of the house, which seemed to have no effect on Mr. Mun. He said nothing and moved on to his study, without returning the bow._

_Enos looked down at Gem, who came just a few inches above his knee and said, in the best Korean he could, “I think we’re in trouble.” Apparently, she understood the gist of it because she nodded her head affirmatively and they both had to stifle a laugh. When she reached out her arms up to his towering height, he grabbed her up again and finished the dance._

~~~~~*~~~~~

It was four-thirty now.

Although he hadn’t told Soonie, he had started a quiet inquiry into Gem’s mother and her family. If the mother could be located, they may have some insight into whether or not she left her child willingly or for some other reason. He couldn’t bear losing Gem at this point but wanted what was best – _for her_.

The celebrations for Korean New Year had come and gone. This year, the year their baby would be born, was the Year of the Tiger. Soonie said it was fitting, considering. It was still too early to know whether the baby was a boy or a girl. Didn’t matter which to him – he just wanted a healthy mother and baby. The first hint of a baby bump couldn’t be seen through the blankets, but he knew it was there all the same and constantly had to pinch himself to believe it was all real.

All too real was what his job had entailed for the last month. At first, there had been a lot of training, or rather familiarization, with his role. In the beginning, days had been consumed with the investigations within South Korea being fed by Interpol data and with which they were integrally involved in planning and execution. This weekend’s operation would be carried out jointly with the National Police Agency (NPA), the local division in Daegu, and their Daegu Special Operations Unit (Korea’s version of SWAT). Although it would constitute his first full operation with Interpol, it would certainly not be the last over the next three years. Unfortunately, this operation focused on the involvement of US military personnel which was high on the clientele target list for those in the sex trade.

Each morning for the past three weeks, he had gone in three hours early to search for responses to the Yellow Notices* issued about Kate to every foreign government and law enforcement agency that were members of Interpol. Those along the route of the cargo ship, their only real lead top her whereabouts, were the ones about which he was most interested. So far, only a few had surfaced. Follow up had led nowhere fast. He would be relying on Thompson and the FBI for more focused searches.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Outside their house at five o'clock, the air was frigid - too frozen to snow anymore. Just snow on the ground that wouldn't melt. Even though the floor was heated, he risked disturbing Soonie by putting another light blanket over her socked feet. She always complained about how cold her feet were even if it was warm in the house.

He rolled into a position that would allow him to get to his feet when Soonie rolled over to stop him.

"Are you actually going to leave for three days without saying a proper goodbye?"

He hadn't needed any more encouragement than that. He was definitely _not_ going to be early going in today.

Once he had finally, and reluctantly, torn himself away from his wife and was on his way to the NCB, he received a call from Turk.

"Are you crazy, Buddy-roe?" he said into his phone. "This is an international call. It's gonna' cost you an arm and a leg."

_**Somewhere in Turkey** _

**Hello, darkness, my old friend. I've come to talk with you again...**

Her life would never be whole again – maybe it never was. She had always known that and had made a soupçon of peace with it. Mignon still had a chance – somewhere, she still had a chance at having a life. That hope was all Kate lived for now – the one thing she hadn't f***ed up.

Mignon...and the girls whose screams were now only whimpers as they acceded to a fate they never would have chosen – had they known - had they not made that one mistake, had they not trusted that one wrong person...had their families or caretakers not dehumanized them long before the traffickers ever got to them.

She had come to know a few of them, especially the young ones.

They weren't the abducted from privilege, they weren't the taken from their loving mother's arms. They were the forgotten...the expendable. Most of them would never survive it. Those who survived, would likely only do so for a few years until they had been used up, worn out, and thrown away. By then, even the instinct to survive would be gone.

The men who held the guns and the keys to the locks on the doors were just the end-of-the-line of the guilty. The young girls...children...in the other cells were victims of the righteous that looked the other way because they didn't want to see the ugliness, or upset the status quo, or disturb their delicate sensibilities. They were victims of the users with no conscience that sold them like meat – or worse – like tools that could be replaced.

They were victims of law enforcement that made assumptions about them. Only nice, privileged girls are victims. Only the abducted, only the clean and virginal. She blamed the hotel managers that took their cut, the cop who was on the take, the business owner who saw but didn't report the van load of women that was unloaded at the nail salon every day and then picked up every night, the pop-up modeling agency, and the only-in-town-for-the-day modeling photographer who did just enough legit shoots to keep down suspicion.

She blamed the good people who averted their eyes because of the way a girl was dressed, assuming she was just trash, never wondering what her story was – or how she got there.

She blamed the enablers and the customers - the school teacher, the church youth leader, the coach, the store owner, the local minister with a wife and two kids, the kindly neighbor, the senator, the local councilman...bodies with no conscience that thought of their victims as something they could buy on a Friday night at the convenience store.

**...but my words like silent raindrops fell and echoed in the well...of silence.**

A doctor had given her medicine to treat the yeast infection and the UTI. A doctor...the thought made her shudder... _Joseph Mengele was a doctor._

Tonight, they would come for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It is probably not necessary for me to acknowledge that the bolded/italicized lyrics I inserted into this chapter are from The Sound of Silence by Simon and Garfunkel. It was one of the songs I chose months ago to represent the mood of Part Two. I love the version by Pentatonix, but one of my sons asked if I had heard the version by 'Disturbed.' When I heard it, I decided I had to use at least a portion of the lyrics for this chapter.


	44. Part 2 - Chapter 44

**Part Two – Chapter Forty Four:**

The more you learn...the more you _learn._

_~The Author~_

_**Seoul, Republic of Korea – January 30, 1998 (Korean Time)** _

As he drove into Seoul, Enos listened, without much comment, to what Turk had to say about his plans to go to New Orleans on his way to the GBI office in Atlanta. Turk had synopsized the story as much as possible but the gist of it was that they suspected someone in the department was behind a cover-up or was, at the very least, manipulating the investigation.

The last thing Enos said to him before they ended the phone call was, "Don't go to New Orleans or Atlanta without talking to Daisy first. Trust me on this. You need to talk to Daisy before you go anywhere."

When Enos walked into the NPA operations staging area, he was clearly shaken by the call from Turk. When his supervisor, Officer Park, asked about his wife's health, Enos assured him she was 'okay,' using a term Koreans had adopted and used frequently, especially when conversing in English with Americans. They used it when speaking Korean as well, but with less frequency.

"Are you positive you are okay for this?" Park asked.

"Yes, Sir. Just got some worrisome news from back home. But my buddy's handlin' it. We got a job to do here."

If there was anyone he trusted to 'handle it,' it was Turk; but that trust wouldn't stop the worry from tangling itself around the edges of his mind - always there, pricking at him like a briar. He had signed up for this knowing he couldn't do it _all_. That kind of thinking had nearly destroyed him once. He wouldn't let it force him into a knee-jerk reaction now.

Beyond that, he felt like it was absolutely necessary to find Kate – something was telling him she was the key to making sure everyone was safe. Those nagging thoughts kept him up at night trying to remember, trying to recapture those few lost hours.

_**Hazzard, Georgia – January 29, 1998 (Eastern Time)** _

In the tiny office of Hazzard County Classic, at the old Chevy dealership just east of the Sweetwater overpass, Bo hung up the phone after his call with Octavia Deacon. He had given her the specs for several hard-to-find parts for two of the classic GTOs he and Cooter planned for their first classic car restoration.

Annie's days off from the library, the hours she wasn't volunteering at the clinic or at the elementary school, were spent setting up the office computer, filing invoices, working on their advertising, and listening to Bo bemoan how dull life had been without Boss Hogg around - until he met _her_ – or so he kept saying. She thought his lamentation was due more to the fact that it wasn't as much fun to run the car full out now that Rosco seemed to have other things occupying his oh-ficial time. Cletus slept through his speed trap duty and only came out when there was a legitimate speeder and the sheriff spent more time just patrolling the area than he did paying attention to where the General was at any given moment.

For anyone who didn't know the situation, Rosco managed to pass himself off as the same clueless sheriff he'd always been. But he _was_ different; hard-to-get-used-to different. Daisy had warmed up to the new Rosco for a while now. Bo was still getting used to it but had less a problem accepting the new Rosco at face value than Luke, who had assumed the role of patriarch since Uncle Jesse passed. It suited Luke and neither Bo nor Daisy offered any real objections.

Last Friday, Luke and Sophie had returned from picking up Caleb at school after being called to the principal's office. He'd gotten into some stupid fight with a few of the other kids and Luke had sent him to his room, with Sophie's full support, to think about what he had done.

Later, while they were all in the barn, Luke worried about whether or not he was going to be any good at this responsibility thing.

"It's a big adjustment, Luke," Daisy had said, "but in some ways, you've been training for this your whole life."

Jesse Duke's passing was still being felt by everyone, especially Bo, who had been picking Annie up in Uncle Jesse's truck for the last few days.

Annie had arrived at the dealership a few days earlier to find the bright orange Charger at the back of the showroom under a car cover. When she asked Bo what was going on, he said matter-of-factly that, _'some things are better off in the past. Wouldn't be the first time we put him out to pasture. At least he's not a home for roosters anymore. Besides, Uncle Jesse was always remindin' us they put hinges on car doors for a reason.'_

It had been slow going for the fledgling business. Bo still had to help out on the farm. But he had moved into town. He would have moved in with Annie if it hadn't been that it wouldn't be proper, _'them not bein' married and all.'_ The fact that she refused to marry him under the current circumstances had become a bit of a sore spot between them. She had argued that it wouldn't even be legal since she was living under a false ID.

It still stymied Bo how Enos, as honest as he was, could have pulled off providing her with fake documents and hiding her in plain sight for nine plus years.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Down the road apiece, Emma Tisdale had just arrived home to pick up something before heading back to the Post Office when the phone rang in her parlor. "This is Emma, what can I do for you?"

"Miss Tisdale, this is Lieutenant Adams from Los Angeles. I'm a friend of Enos Str..."

"I know who y'are, Sonny Jim. I remember you from when you were here before and lured our boy back to sin city."

Turk cleared his throat and said, "Yes, ma'am." There was no use denying it or defending L.A. Miss Tisdale reminded him of his Aunt Olivia, who frankly felt the same way about the big city – both of them were soft as an Easter Peeps® and blunt as a brick.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant? Nothin's happened to Enos or that precious new family of his has it?"

"No, ma'am. They're fine. I was calling to talk to Daisy. Is she around? I haven't been able to reach her on her mobile phone."

"Well, it's clear you haven't spent much time here in the rural routes. Reception's not real good everywhere and Daisy says there's dead zones on the way. Not sure why they call 'em that. Seems to me they should call 'em no-signal areas if they were gonna' be precise. That's why we still have payphone boxes out in the middle of nowhere."

"Sooo, she's on her way to...?"

"Oh, sorry. I got off at the station and forgot to get back on. She's over at the farm for supper tonight. I expect she'll be there by now."

"Thanks, Miss Tisdale. I'll call her there."

"You want the number, Hun?"

"I have it. Thanks."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Daisy dried her hands on a towel and answered the phone on the kitchen wall.

"Hey, Turk. Didn't expect you to be calling me _here_ on a Thursday."

"I called..." he started to say. "Sorry, Daisy. Thought I'd have time to talk but _just_ got a message on my work beeper. Call you later."

When the phone went dead, except for the usual static, Daisy looked at the receiver as if she'd never seen it before, then, shaking her head, hung it on the hook and went back to peeling potatoes. By the time she had peeled another three, her mobile phone received a text.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Hearing both static and a high-pitched humming on the line when Daisy answered the phone, Turk immediately ended the call and began the laborious process of picking at the numbers over and over again on his Nokia® to send Daisy a text.

**'think your phone tapped call me from safe line'**

He stopped for only half a second, silently thanking Miss Tisdale for getting off at that station, and added:

**'phone box not cell'**

_**Daegu, Republic of Korea – January 30, 1998 (Korean Time)** _

"There is a destiny that makes us brothers;  
None goes his way alone.

All that we send into the lives of others  
Comes back into our own.

I care not what his temples or his creeds,  
One thing holds firm and fast

That into his fateful heap of days and deeds  
The soul of a man is cast."

 _~A Creed_ , Edwin Markham~

It was 6:00 pm in Daegu. Enos had arrived at the NPA office at five to provide the most recent intel available and to suit up for the raid.

"Officer Strate?" said a voice behind him.

Enos had been staring into the distance through the glass wall that seemed to be the architectural benchmark for official buildings. He couldn't argue with the reasoning. _Palgongsan_ , in the same mountain range that boasted the _Yeongnam Alps_ , loomed in the distance, lit in a purple and magenta haze.

"Can't spit without hittin' a mountain in Korea," Kaminski added, "but they sure are pretty." Sergeant Rose Kaminski had an unmistakable South Carolina drawl and was dressed in full military tactical gear.

Interpol officers weren't armed. Enos would only have a vest that identified him as INTERPOL.

"Hey, Sarge. Didn't see you come in," Enos said, extending his hand.

After shaking Enos's hand, Kaminski pulled a clipboard out from under her arm.

"You got somethin' new from the Army we need to know b'fore rollin' on this?" Enos asked.

"No. Just need a signature. More red tape so you can sit in on the interrogations. Once we get the three of them in custody, we'll give you a heads-up on schedulin' those around whatever others you need to do."

Kaminski was referring to the three servicemen who had been surveilled and identified as conspiring with traffickers to transport Korean prostitutes to other countries. Enos perused the paper on the clipboard and turned it over to read the fine print, then scrawled his signature on the bottom line under his preprinted name, looked at his watch and noted the time next to his signature.

Raids on the _Jagalmadang_ red-light district were usually handled by the local police branch alone. Tonight's foray involved drugs being traded for women, ostensibly for international transport, and involved US military personnel to facilitate the transaction. It was the first step of an ongoing joint operation that would span the next month. By the time _Operation Dragon_ was finally concluded, he would travel through three-quarters of Korea on Interpol's dime.

After Sergeant Kaminski moved on into the planning area to consult with another MP, Enos grabbed his vest and headed out the door to the van. He only had a fifteen-minute window to call Ginny Shivers before he had to go active. It would be three in the morning in Atlanta but nothing unusual for Ginny. He'd thought long and hard, since talking to Turk, about making the call and had aborted the attempt several times.

"Ginny," he said into his phone.

There was a short pause before she said _, "Enos? Enos Strate?"_

"Yes ma'am, it's me."

" _Thought I recognized your voice...It's been a while." There was an unmistakable note of caution in her voice. For her protection, he never contacted her unless he had a 'situation.'_

"...Nearly four years," he said, hovering out of the cold as much as possible on the south side of the van, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. Several Daegu NPA officers having a conversation in Korean passed him on their way into the building and reminded him of the time, which he acknowledged in Korean.

" _Where are you?" she asked._

"Long way from Georgia, Ginny. That's why I might need your help."

Jack Cole's daughter, Ginny, had provided her own special brand of assistance four times over the past eight years. Assistance only she, her brother Matt, and their _family partnership_ could provide. Assistance he would use only under dire circumstances when all other options had failed; a resource of last resort and not one he wanted to entertain...but if push came to shove, it might be the only way to keep Mignon safe.

He didn't know how far back their involvement went, and he never asked, but he knew it had started with Ginny's work at a women's shelter in Atlanta

~~~~~*~~~~~

_In the fall of 1985, Enos had discovered Jack Cole's underground railway while he was still a deputy in Hazzard County. (1)_

_He'd been on mind-numbing speed trap duty that night when he heard the APB. A woman in her thirties, with long dirty blonde hair, was being sought in the kidnapping of her two children, a ten-year-old boy, and a three-year-old girl. After he got off-duty, he switched from Hazzard #2 to his own beat-up truck, the one that replaced the beat-up station wagon that Frank Scanlon had blown up in '83, and took his usual ride out to guard-dog Daisy while she closed up at the Boar's Nest. He never made it that far._

_When he spotted the Fulton County license plate, he radioed the sighting into dispatch and followed them for two miles before he took the turnoff, cutting them off before they could reach the Hazzard County line. He figured they must have taken the route through his county to avoid the 'real' police, which irked him no end. He'd already had just about enough of Hazzard's reputation for ineptitude and his duplicity in furthering that notion._

_Being past midnight and moonless, he couldn't see into the car and there were no interior lights to show who he would be dealing with. When he got on his loudspeaker and told the occupants to get out of the car with their hands in full view, only one woman got out and pleaded with him not to hurt anyone and that she had kids in the car. The woman didn't have long dirty blonde hair. It was only later he would come to know her as Ginny Shivers. Her brother Matt stepped out of the car through the passenger door, illuminating the car enough to see one terrified woman holding two very scared children in the back seat._

_Forty minutes and a frightening inventory of old injuries and fresh cuts and bruises later, he logged the sighting as a misidentification. And thus, became a boxcar in a long transport train for battered women and abused children who had run out of options._

~~~~~*~~~~~

Without revealing her name, he acquainted Ginny with Mignon's situation and asked if they could be ready at a moment's notice.

"It might come down to that," he said. "I wouldn't ask if I could think of any other way. Can't get her into WITSEC. She doesn't have any testimony to give and I won't risk the feds decidin' to use her as bait."

_"We can be ready, Enos," Ginny assured him. "But it'll take at least a week to set up."_

"That'll do. Thanks, Ginny. I hope we don't need your help. But if we do, I'll be forever grateful."

~~~~~*~~~~~

Mignon seemed happy in Hazzard and didn't deserve the hand that she'd been dealt. Neither he nor Kate had expected her not to establish some kind of a life in hiding. That Bo had developed deep feelings for her was something Enos had never even entertained as a possibility.

_**Santa Monica, California – February 4, 1998 (Pacific Time)** _

Inez threw the two small bags of groceries down on the motel bed and couldn't remember when she had been this bone-weary tired, even after the accident. Drained was more like it. The emptiness of her house compounded by the guilt in her soul threatened to shove her over the edge and she fought hard against it. Wallowing in the guilt wouldn't bring Kate Broussard back. It wouldn't nail the son of a bitch behind it all.

And...it wouldn't make E love her the way she loved him. Not that she had ever dared to try. If he found out what she'd done, the thing that she couldn't erase, the thing that had set in motion everything that happened in the last few months - he would hate her, and she would deserve it. She had not been prepared for the unrelenting ache or how hollow her life would feel since he left.

Not being able to stand going back to her house in Baldwin Hills, she had been staying in an efficiency motel room in Santa Monica for the last three days. It gave her moderate respite from ghosts and a vantage point from which to keep an eye on Thompson and his girlfriend. That was a pairing she never would have guessed. Downright weird.

The codicil to her will and the letter to Aaron had already been couriered to her attorney through a private security company, both of which she had thoroughly vetted. They would be in addition to the confession she had written to Internal Affairs nine and a half years ago – her insurance policy, in case the bastard ever tried again to force her to do more than that one thing. And it had worked for nine years.

Even if she _had_ begged him, David didn't have the backbone to come clean. Aaron would be hurt and would never forgive either of them. But if he knew how much pain had been caused by what she had done to protect him from knowing what a lowlife his father really was, he would not be hurt – he would be devastated.

She would have to risk it. The collateral damage had to **stop**.

When her mobile phone rang and she saw the number, she let it go to voicemail – again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: (1) Jack Cole, his daughter Ginny, and son Matt, as well as the underground railway, are the original creation of WENN9366 for her DOH fanfic Halls of Stone and Iron and used within the context of this story, with only slight variations, with her permission. In case you aren't familiar with the author or her DOH fanfic, I highly recommend them. You can find links to her stories in my profile or check out hers.


	45. Part 2 - Chapter 45

**Part Two – Chapter Forty Five:**

_**Washington, D.C. – August 14, 2000** _

The congressional aid to the Committee Chairman came out of the committee room to let Ty Lambert and two other journalists who were in the witness waiting room know that the press was allowed to come in ahead of the witnesses.

"Just a reminder to witnesses," she said, "when you enter the committee room, you will all be seated by an aid, your seating is marked with your name. The committee chairman will make an initial statement and allow statements to be given by the other committee members. You will be sworn in and after a short introduction by the chairman, you will each be allowed to read your written statement. There will be lights to guide you for your oral presentations: a green light indicates that time remains and that you may continue your presentation; a yellow light will warn you to begin your conclusion; and a red light lets you know that you should conclude your statement. After each of you has presented your statement, each of the committee members - there will be three - will be allowed five minutes for questions."

Enos and Ty had gone over procedure ad nauseam for the past three days, first on the plane on Friday, then Saturday and Sunday at the hotel, and again that morning before leaving for the Capitol.

As the time to be called inched closer, Enos felt the tightness in the pit of his stomach, that had been with him ever since he had entered the building, twist his insides into a knot. He thanked his lucky stars, Cooter...Congressman Davenport...would be in the public seating as an observer.

He sat among the other nine law enforcement and immigration representatives. Across the corridor, four young women, aged sixteen to twenty-six, sat together with their various advocates from an NGO or advocacy group. Three of them needed an interpreter. He braced himself for what he was about to hear. Even the cleaned-up-for-public-consumption version would conjure up graphic images for anyone who has seen it first-hand. One of his greatest fears was that those images would ever seem routine to him; that there would ever be a time when he would get used to them.

Knowing what it took for those women to be sitting there made him ashamed of himself. Schoolboy butterflies couldn't compare to what they had endured.

 _If he had heard her say 'suck it up' once, he'd heard it a thousand times._ So, he beat down his own anxiety. His hands stopped shaking and he knew that his voice would be calm when he gave his testimony.

' _Perspective,'_ he thought, _'it's all about keeping it in the right perspective.'_


	46. Part 2 - Chapter 46

**Part Two – Chapter Forty Six:**

_**Hazzard, Georgia – February 5, 1998 (Eastern Time)** _

Bo arrived at the farm early on Thursday morning, the previous night's continuing battle with Annie still fresh on his mind. He was heartsick over the chasm, the size of Stillson's canyon, that his frustration over their situation had caused between them.

When he pulled into the yard, Luke was already in the barn working on the old tractor that was perpetually in need of a new part. Getting a new tractor was out of the question until they could get that last field blasted, tilled, and planted. Blowing things up was another thing Bo and Annie fought about, but he knew deep down it was just her way of hitting back whenever he started in on Kate. He tried. He really _did_ try to give Annie's sister the benefit of the doubt. There was no telling what terrible things she was going through, but Dadgummit! she was responsible for Annie having to live like she was hiding from the KGB.

"Hey, Luke," Bo grumbled to his cousin as he made his way to the ordinance bin, dialed the combination on the padlock, and pulled on the shackle.

"Mornin'. You're early," Luke said, still fussing over one of the sparkplug wires.

"You said to be here at 5:00 am. It's 4:55."

"Then...let's go in and have some breakfast b'fore Daisy gets here."

"Not hungry."

Luke straightened up and wiped the grease off his hands. "My wife got up at 4:30 to fix breakfast. Least you can do is eat it."

"Alright. You don't need to have a hissy fit over it." Kate Broussard wasn't the only bur under Bo's saddle.

He hadn't bucked Luke's assumption as the de facto head of the family in the beginning, but the past week living under the specter of knowing the farm's phone was tapped had left a bad taste in the mouth of both of the Duke cousins, but especially in Bo's. The only reason he didn't challenge Luke more was that Luke was just as pissed off at Enos as Bo was at Annie's sister.

Pollen season wasn't making anything any better. Bo sneezed for the umpteenth time while sidestepping puddles covered in the yellow dust in the yard, as he followed Luke into the house. When Bo saw the fresh-baked biscuits and steam coming from the cast iron skillet of sausage gravy, he heard his Uncle Jesse's voice say, _"It's a sin ta' let good food go ta' waste."_ So, he kissed the cook on the cheek and sat down at the table.

~~~~~*~~~~~

The bed was warm, and Daisy didn’t want to get out of it. She could hear Mizz Tisdale rustling around in the kitchen. Emma still rose at the crack of dawn to make coffee and sit on the porch before going into the Post Office.

With a groan, she eased herself from under the patchwork quilt. Watching Lavinia hand quilt the colorful blocks of fabric was the last best memory she had of her aunt. Considering what was on her agenda for today, she wondered if it was the warmth of more innocent times that had kept her under the covers this morning. When she appeared in the kitchen, Emma had a cup of coffee waiting for her.

“Knew you wouldn’t wanna’ be outdone by an eighty-nine-year-old,” Emma said, reacting to Daisy’s expression – the coffee was still hot and fresh. “Figured you’d show your face pretty soon. You gotta’ be out of here in twenty minutes if you’re gonna’ stop by the farm first.”

Daisy leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “I want to grow up to be you, Miss Emma.”

“Stop butterin’ me up, missy, and you be careful goin’ to Atlanta.”

~~~~~*~~~~~

At 7:00 am, when Daisy arrived at the Duke farm, she expected to see Luke out on the tractor, but it was still sitting in the barn and Uncle Jesse's truck was parked in the yard. She parked the Harley in the back yard and used the kitchen door. Right behind her, Sophie came in carrying a basket of fresh eggs, which she set down on the counter beside the stove.

Annie was already at work at the library, and Caleb and Emily had been picked up by the bus half an hour earlier, so it was just the four of them in the house – Sophie, Daisy, and two dead-serious looking cousins.

"Hey, fellas, what's up? Did they declare a farmer's holiday?" she asked, trying to keep it light, as she set her motorcycle helmet on a side table beside the back door and a small gym bag on the floor beside it.

"Sit down, Daisy," Luke said. "We need to talk."

Daisy knew what was coming and steeled herself for a _come to Jesus meeting_. If it had been Uncle Jesse asking, she would have obeyed without question. But, since it was Luke asking, she stood her ground. "I think I'll be just fine right here."

"Have it your way," Luke said, noticing that Sophie had chosen to remain standing as well. Over the last hour of non-stop ranting and raving between him and Bo, she'd made it clear to both of them where she stood on the subject.

Bo being Bo, blurted out, "We don't think you should go to Atlanta alone. One of us is goin' with you."

"I thought we settled this a long time ago, Bo when you and Luke came back from the racing circuit."

"That was different, and you know it, Daisy," Luke insisted. "And we were right about Darcy Kincaid, weren't we?" He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, prepared for battle.

Daisy ignored the reminder about how phenomenally clueless she had been about Darcy Kincaid.

"Even though we know there's no bugs in the house, somebody's still listening in on our phone calls," he said.

Luke hadn't needed any outside guidance on looking for listening devices and, having done some lineman work back in the day, he'd verified the tap on the phone line.

"I still say we should rip out all the phone wires comin' into the house..." Bo insisted.

"Turk said that might be the worst thing you could do. At least, until he can meet with the GBI."

"Daisy, it's been a week," Bo insisted. "And Turk's not the one that's havin' to walk on eggshells around here."

"Since when did a Duke back down from a scrap or go runnin' for cover with our tails between our legs?" Daisy asked.

"Since we're not the only ones we have to worry about," Luke said, looking straight at Sophie. "In case you hadn't noticed, cousin, I have a wife and kids to think about. So, I'm goin' with you to hear what Turk has to say myself."

Sophie had to get up from the table and busy herself with putting the eggs in cartons so she wouldn't be tempted to put in her two cents, the coinage of which would just put her and Luke at odds.

"I still got no idea why you need to go into Atlanta to see Turk," Luke continued. "He said he didn't think your cell phone was tapped. Why can't he just say what he has to say that way? Or why can't he come here?"

“Because he doesn’t want to stick out like a sore thumb.”

Luke stood suddenly, sending his chair scooting back across the wood floor. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Daisy put her fists on her hips and a stern look on her face.

“I mean...he’s a police officer from Los Angeles. He’s Enos’s best friend out there and used to be his partner...and everybody in town knows it. Captain Broggi wasn’t in town twenty minutes before everybody in town knew who he was.”

“Alright, Daisy. You can put your claws away. We get the picture.” Luke held his hands up in mock surrender.

“We don’t know who’s out there watchin.’ I have a legitimate reason to be at the university. If I go into Atlanta, it won’t be unusual. Turk’s got no obvious reason to be here in Hazzard if Enos isn’t here – other than official police business. Him comin’ here to Hazzard would shine a light on us...and Annie.”

"You call the farm's phone bein' tapped _not_ havin' a light shined on us? And he doesn't know about Annie...does he?" Bo asked, a worried tone evident in his voice. His concern had nothing to do with whether or not he trusted Turk Adams - too many people already knew about her.

"No, I'm pretty sure he doesn't. But Enos told him he _had_ to talk to me before he goes to the GBI, or anywhere else, askin' a lot of questions."

Turk had told her that Enos's exact words were that he needed to talk to her _'before you do somethin' that might let the genie out of the bottle.'_ So, she suspected that Enos wanted Turk to know about Annie. Somewhere in the pit of her roiling stomach, she knew she would feel a little safer if he did.

"Then, **I'm goin' with you** ," Luke said, quelling the temptation to tell Daisy what he thought Enos could go do with himself at the moment.

"No. Annie's my responsibility. It's me who should go," Bo demanded.

"Haven't you been listening to me, either of you? If you go with me, it's not routine anymore. Besides, are ya'll just gonna' leave Annie or Sophie and the kids here alone?"

Luke couldn't argue with that reasoning, even though he _really_ wanted to. But her argument didn't hold the same weight with Bo.

" **NO!** " Daisy said, pointing a finger at Bo before he could get the words out of his mouth. "I'm a big girl, in case you hadn't noticed. I dress myself and everything. I'm going into Atlanta...by myself...and **that's final!** So, Luke. Can I still borrow your truck?" She held out her hand.

Luke's lifelong experience with Daisy was that if she _was_ going to back down, she'd have done it already. With a frustrated groan, he got up from the table and retrieved his keys from the hook in the foyer, depositing them in her outstretched palm.

She took the keys, grabbed her bag, and went into the bathroom to change out of the jeans and sweatshirt she had worn for the motorcycle ride to the farm, and changed into a skirt, blouse, and pumps more fitting for a visit to Emory University.

_**Emory University, Atlanta, Georgia – February 5, 1998 (Eastern Time)** _

Daisy parked, pulled on a light sweater that matched the peach in her blouse, and made her way into the café past a bevy of students. Turk saw her come in, stood up in front of his chair, and got her attention at a table he had staked out at the back of the room, away from the queue at the order counter. He was wearing a three-piece grey suit and no service weapon on his hip. She absentmindedly wondered if he was wearing a shoulder holster and then silently admitted her ignorance on the subject of service weapon protocol.

In several of his letters, Enos had talked about Turk. He wrote that it wasn't street smarts that made Turk perfect for undercover work, although that was a definite plus, but the fact that he was like one of those chameleon lizards – he could blend in _'without hardly even trying.'_ He could pull off high powered executive and flamboyant pimp with equal measure. Enos also wrote that he sometimes wondered why Turk had ever bothered with a green, wet-behind-the-ears, screw-up like him way back when.

"Sorry, Turk," she said when she reached the table and gave him a quick hug, "I had no idea this place would be so busy at this time of day."

"Better busy. No one will pay any attention to us," he said, pulling out her chair. "I already ordered for us. Should be ready in a few minutes."

He pointed to her skirt.

"You didn't ride your Harley to Atlanta wearing that, did you?"

"Of course not. I borrowed Luke's truck."

"Ah. How _is_ the rest of the Duke family?"

"Bo wants to rip out all the telephone wires and Luke and Bo both insisted on coming into the city with me this morning. I talked them out of it. Other than that, I think they're taking their frustration out on Enos and Kate."

"Can't say that I blame them. I doubt that Enos or Kate would blame them either. But that won't change anything. And, I never said you _had_ to come alone. The tap on your phone is one of the things I intend to take up with the GBI when I meet with them later this morning. They can get a trace on it and find out the source – can't imagine they don't have the equipment that can do that. But they'll need your permission, or Luke's, or whoever's."

"I'll talk to Luke."

"Daisy, I'm only here for the day; I have to be back in L.A. tomorrow morning for a task force meeting. My flight leaves at eight. Can you have an early dinner with me near the airport? Say about four? That way you can be back in Hazzard before it gets too dark."

"Yeah, I can do that."

"There may be some things I find out that you and your cousins need to know, and I don't want to delay getting you the information. Besides, it will give you time to talk to Luke. It would expedite phone monitoring."

"Sure, no problem," she said, scrutinizing him. She had spoken to Turk only once more from the phone box out on Drexel Road since he sent the text about his suspicions about the farm phone. Even though he had asked her to meet him this morning and they had discussed where and when he hadn't mentioned anything about a dinner date.

"So, other than intrigue, what have you been up to?" Turk asked, interrupting her ruminations.

"Just trying to keep it all together and get ready for my move to Atlanta," she said.

"You found an apartment yet?"

"Not yet. I suppose I could spend the time while you're at the GBI. How long do you think you'll be there?"

Turk smiled. "A couple of hours, at least."

"So how's the girlfriend?" she asked, for lack of any better small talk.

"Ummm...Shawnee and I aren't together anymore. She moved out nearly two months ago, before Christmas."

"Turk...I'm sorry to hear about that. Soonie told me Enos thought she might be _the one_."

More than once, he wished he'd been a fly on the wall for Daisy and Soonie's conversation after he left that Sunday.

"Yeah, well, maybe I did too, for a while," he said, ignoring his curiosity. "Work takes up most of my time now anyway."

Before he could elaborate, a tall man with reddish hair and wearing a tweed jacket approached the table.

"Uh, oh. So much for not drawing attention. That's the director of my research project," Daisy said in a low voice.

"Doctor Duke," said the man, who looked to Turk to be about forty, maybe forty-five. "I didn't expect to see you here today?" While he said it, his eyes darted from Daisy to Turk.

"I came in to check on a few administrative things and then I'm going to look for an apartment. Haven't had much time until now."

"The time to do that is in December or May when all the students have vacated their digs."

"I had a lot going on in December and I can't wait 'til May. I'm sure I'll find something. Professor Duncan," she indicated Turk, "this is..."

Turk stood up and thrust out his hand to the professor. "J. Bertrand Adams. USC. A pleasure to meet you. I'm here in Atlanta to do a little scouting. USC has a well-respected Environmental Science department and can always use new talent of Doctor Duke's caliber."

"Yes, indeed," the professor said, warily, and shook Turk's hand. "Doctor Duke has a commitment to Emory for the next year Mr. Adams. Is it ethical to be recruiting before she has even started her research project?"

"Only unethical if I spirit her away, which I don't plan to do, just yet. I believe your project is safe for this year's commitment."

"I certainly hope so," he said. "Well, I will leave you both to talk." He turned to Daisy. "I will expect to see you in May, Doctor Duke."

"Yes, Sir. I'll definitely be here."

After the professor disappeared into the crowd, Daisy couldn't suppress a smile and asked, "What the hell was that?!"

"Just giving him something to think about. I didn't lie. Enos and I both got our degrees from USC in Criminal Justice – I never said I was _working_ for USC. And I _am_ here in Atlanta on a scouting mission, just not the kind he assumed."

She narrowed her eyes and gave him a look.

"You want me to track him down and tell him I'm a drug enforcement officer from L.A. meeting with you in connection with an investigation into an international kidnapping, an attack on a police officer, a triple homicide, drug, and human trafficking, and underage sex crimes ring?"

"Don't be an idiot. Of course not."

When Turk heard someone from the counter call 'Adams', he excused himself and went to pick up their brunch order. When he returned to the table with two orders of French toast and coffee, Daisy had taken some photos and a phone bill out of her pocket and placed them in front of him. He took a look at the photos of the wiring in the farm's outside phone box in-line. The phone bill and the photos only verified what he already knew.

"Can I keep these?" he asked, handing her one of the containers.

"Sure."

"Enough small talk, Daisy. We need to cut to the chase. When I told Enos I planned to go to New Orleans and Lafayette to look deeper into Kate's background he was _adamant_ that I talk to you first. So, what is it I need to know? But, eat first."

At least now she knew why she had to tell Turk about Annie. If he went snooping around in Kate Broussard's background, he would find out about her sister and start asking questions that might make the wrong people start connecting up dots.

After getting about halfway through the sticky bread, Daisy explained to Turk about Mignon Broussard, aka Annie Poe. Finishing off his own toast, he didn't show even a hint of surprise. He'd been uncharacteristically quiet during her recital of the tale; at least the character with which Daisy had been acquainted. Of course, that had been limited to the week she spent in Los Angeles in 1980, the week he had spent in Hazzard in 1987 (a month before Enos returned to L.A.), and the one hour she had spent with him at Soonie's apartment that Sunday after Enos's attack. Wasn't much to build a character profile on. Today was her first real glimpse of the serious Turk Adams – the Police Lieutenant Turk Adams. At least with Turk, she didn't have any long-term, preconceived, and constantly reinforced ideas about him.

The image was banished when he snorted a quick mischievous laugh. "Explains a lot," he mused.

"I'm glad _you_ think so. About the time I think I have Enos figured out, a new bomb drops out of the sky that I think I should've known all along."

"Don't beat yourself up so much, Daisy," he said, sympathetically. "Not sure if any of us will ever know what _really_ goes on in that brain of his...except maybe Soonie. Man plays things tight to the vest, even with his best friends. May be why we're so few and far between. How he's made I guess." He snickered, "Drives Thompson nuts."

Daisy looked incredulous. Detective Thompson had seemed to be a close friend from her vantage point. She assumed they were partners, and no one ever said anything to make her think otherwise.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I think the guy would take a bullet for Enos, and vice versa. And I love him like a brother. When we both go to my Mom's house for dinner, she tells the neighbors that her 'kids' are coming for supper." He snickered again. "But he still has the ability to drive _me_ nuts sometimes."

"I'd like to meet your mom."

"Maybe someday you can. You know, I wasn't kidding when I told that nosy professor that they have a pretty good Environmental Science department at USC."

"That nosy professor will be paying my salary for the next year."

"Granted. But...You have to do something after that, don't you?"

Before she had time contemplate her future after the Emory study, Turk started strategizing what to do now, and told her, "I think Enos may have an alternate plan."

"Why do you say that?"

"Something he said. _'There's always more than one way to get somethin' done that needs doin', Buddy-roe.'"_


	47. Part 2 - Chapter 47

**Part Two – Chapter Forty Seven:**

_**Atlanta, Georgia – February 5, 1998 (Eastern Time)** _

Sitting at a table in a windowless cubicle at the Region 10 office of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation in Decatur, Turk groaned when he was abruptly hit with a reminder of what day it was. With all that was going on, he'd missed the fact that February 5th would have been Latoya Brown's 30th birthday.

He didn't know what, or how much, Enos had told Soonie about what happened in '81 that had sent him back to Hazzard, only that he _had_ told her. One thing he was sure of – Daisy didn't know and he had no right to tell her.

Memories of life-altering events can be cruel, even after seventeen years.

What Turk remembered was that his former patrol partner and best friend of eighteen years, the most optimistic person he had ever met, had once upon a time been overwhelmed by grief and guilt - and the paralyzing fear that if Arthur Wayne Tremont had _not_ done it for him, he was capable of breaking the sixth commandment. Even if his head might have prevented it, there had been murder in his heart.

* * *

**May 1981**

In the Los Angeles of May 1981, the hunt for the person the press had dubbed _The_ _Sunset Boulevard Killer_ was in its fifth month by the time the subtotal of his victims reached nine.

News coverage and public appeals for information _brought in_ data overload and _brought out_ the kooks ranging from alien abduction theorists to fake mediums, and lonely people who just wanted some attention. It was difficult in a megacity to sift through the bullshit in order to glean legitimate facts.

There were no photos and no security camera footage - only a sketch cobbled together from bits and pieces of descriptions by grieving parents, mall employees, gas station patrons, and anyone else who might have seen anything out of the ordinary.

There was a reason it was called a 'sketch.' The resultant composite was neither good nor accurate, but it was all that investigators had. The killer had left no fingerprints and what little had been left of trace evidence was counterintuitive. DNA evidence would not be a factor in identification for another six to eight years. Since the cause of death had been different for each child and the victimology did not fit any determinable pattern, the FBI's psychological profile was limited. A link connecting the murders to a single perpetrator had only been conjecture until the discovery of the body of his fourth victim, thirteen-year-old Gwen Olsen, in November 1980.

 _The Sunset Boulevard Killer_ had been abducting and murdering young girls from all parts of the city at the rate of one per month since August. Because the days of the month for each abduction also did not follow any discernable pattern, there was divided opinion among investigators whether the victims were chosen by design or by opportunity.

The only actual witnesses to the killer's modus operandi were the girls he had abducted, violated, murdered, and left in dumpsters and other trash receptacles along one of the most iconic and traveled thoroughfares in Los Angeles...like garbage. By the time the broken body of his fifth victim, thirteen-year-old Maria Alvarez, was found by a restaurant employee making her last trash run of the day, Southern Californians feared for the safety of their teen daughters.

Residents and employees of businesses along the twenty-one-mile boulevard became wary of opening their trash cans and dumpsters, afraid of what they might find inside. There weren't enough resources available for twenty-four hour a day surveillance of every trash receptacle large enough to fit a teen's body along the route. Even though the public had been on alert for several months, the killer managed to evade the lenses of security cameras, the public, and the eyes of patrol units to deposit four more bodies by the end of April 1981.

At 10:12 pm on May 25, LAPD Officer Enos Strate, working out of Metro Division, pulled into an out-of-the-way gas station off Sunset Boulevard to lend a hand to a stranded motorist. Tired, and drained by a fourteen-hour shift that had seemed like twenty-four, he might not have stopped if he hadn't noticed that the man was dragging a game leg and struggling to retrieve a tire from his trunk.

That, and the station looked as if it had been closed for some time. The security lights flickered and gave little illumination to the area where the man had parked the '76 Medium Blue Chevy Impala hardtop. It was not a good place for a single soul to be at that time of night.

At first, the man refused Enos's offer when he pulled over to ask if he needed assistance. When he identified himself as an off-duty Los Angeles Police Officer, the man reluctantly accepted his help. He was a friendly, fortyish man of medium stature and build that reminded Enos of Cooter Davenport's Uncle Jedediah.

"Wasn't sure about you at first. There's a lot of crazies out there," the man had said. "Name's Art, by the way." He stuck out his hand for Enos to shake.

Between the two of them, they completed the tire change in nine minutes, tops. Enos hefted the flat tire into the trunk for Art and laid it among soiled paint rags, rubber gloves, paint-stained canvas overalls, brushes, rollers, and several gallon-containers of paint in varying colors. He said 'good luck' to Art, shook his hand again and was back on the road headed to his tiny apartment to get some much-needed sleep.

On May 27, four hours after Latoya Brown was taken from a crowded mall in West Hollywood, a new, more detailed sketch of the _Sunset Boulevard Killer_ was circulated to every police station, patrol unit, and news service that covered Southern California from Bakersfield to the Baja.

There was no doubt about it. The man in the new sketch was Art.

Tips flooded in from the public identifying more than fifty different individuals. But it was Officer Strate's detailed description of the car and driver that helped investigators put even more detail into the sketch, narrow down the possible owners named Art, or variations thereof, with a possible physical handicap. With a confirmed identification by the latest grieving mother, only then could a license number be matched to both a name and an address.

Both Latoya's and Tremont's photos were splashed on the news constantly over the next eighteen hours in a desperate attempt to find both him and the teen.

On the afternoon of May 28, 1981, LAPD arrived at Arthur Wayne Tremont's address to serve a warrant and found that the residence had been vacated and his vehicle was no longer in the garage. What they found in the house was a nightmare that no one should have to see. However, Latoya was not there.

By then, it was already too late. It had already been too late even by the time Enos had provided the description of the car Tremont was driving.

On May 27, within hours of her abduction, Latoya Brown, born on February 5, 1968, was thirteen years, three months, and twenty-two days old when she became Art's tenth and final victim.

In the early hours of the morning on May 29, 1981, Art was finally found in his car in a dry flood control channel - dead by his own hand with Latoya's lifeless body in the trunk.

~~~~~*~~~~~

The realization hadn't come in small waves. It hit Enos all at once. Not only had he let a monster escape, but he had also helped him on his merry way - and an innocent young girl had paid the price.

He had failed to save her.

Had he and Enos been the patrol unit that discovered Latoya's body and Tremont alive...?

Turk wasn't sure. The only thing he _was_ sure of was that a darkness had settled in and surrounded Enos. It wore his uniform, it rode in the car with them - it drew his breath and pumped thick hot blood through his heart - and frankly, it scared them both.

Then the guilt set in.

Turk tried to convince him that it was not his fault. Even Lieutenant Broggi, who constantly complained that Enos would be the death of him, tried to assuage his conscience.

_The original sketch only barely resembled Tremont – none of them would have made the connection; the limp was new; even if he'd gotten the license number, they had all been too late to save Latoya._

That he had likely saved three children that might have otherwise died to fulfill Art's sick reverence for the number thirteen fell on deaf ears. He could not be consoled and would accept no reasons or excuses to forgive himself. Nothing Turk or Broggi said could pull him out of the pit he had let swallow him whole. He shut them out and refused any professional help. Latoya's blood was on _his_ hands...and _his_ alone.

He wouldn't even allow himself the solace of tears.

The day after Mary and Torrence Brown buried their daughter, Enos Strate went back to Hazzard to bury _himself_ in the mundane and the unremarkable.

~~~~~*~~~~~

It's been said that there are seven emotional stages of grieving: shock, denial, bargaining, guilt, anger, depression, and acceptance – not all are experienced by all who grieve and not necessarily in the same order. The debate that stages even exist and can be labeled is ongoing.

Regardless of any debate, recovery can be a slow and arduous process...especially if you're Enos Strate.

For the first five years, Enos reconciled himself to doing his penance in Hazzard County - familiar, unchanging, and oh so anesthetizing. The HazzardNet could still be counted on for all the latest gossip; Miz Emma Tisdale was still at the Post Office; the Sheriff was still Rosco P. Coltrane; and Boss was still trying to make life miserable for the Dukes.

Enos was the one who had changed. He didn't look at anything the same as he had before; he didn't react to anything the same as he had before. The gulf between the man he was before he left for California and the man who returned from there widened more as the years clicked by.

Settling back into the safety of being a Hazzard County Deputy had been as easy as pie. Escaping into his comic books, he found a way of keeping himself grounded in the part he needed to play - a part he had spent a lifetime rehearsing. So very few noticed the change. Rosco noticed. Uncle Jesse noticed. Whether Daisy noticed or not...?

Slowly, as he moved past the pain and self-recrimination, he could not forget that once, for a brief period of time, he had been useful.

After the first year, he went back to school – nights, weekends, days off – to keep from going crazy. Scarcely was he seen around town on his off-duty time. Speed trap duty eventually became time he used to study for an upcoming exam or do some extra reading on a subject with which he was not familiar.

Attorney Bronke, whose office was in the courthouse, let him borrow law books - always with the promise that it would be kept just between the two of them. Having lived and worked in Hazzard for thirty years, Bronke never questioned why Enos didn't want anyone to find out that he not only _had_ a brain but knew how to use it.

Yet, he was still not ready to rise from the depths of guilt that should not have been his to bear.

Until the winter of '86 when Turk started to notice a change. Their phone calls became more frequent, with Enos making the call instead of the other way around.

In the early part of '87, after Enos had finally earned three terms in college credits, Turk began to get vibes during their phone conversations that he might be open to returning to Los Angeles. He seemed reenergized and...restless.

**March 1987**

Then, one day in March, Joseph Broggi showed up in Hazzard out of the clear blue sky.

Using a cane because of an old duty-related injury, he walked into the Hazard County Sheriff's office as pretty as you please. When Rosco called Enos off patrol, he only told him that someone was there to see him. Broggi tried to dissuade the sheriff from pulling one of his only two deputies off-duty, and that he could wait. But Rosco explained that Enos _'was just manning the speed trap, uh, watchin' for speeders.'_ Broggi heard Rosco say, under his breath, _"Probly just got his nose in another book and ain't watchin' anyway..."_

While waiting for Enos to come in, Broggi took Rosco's suggestion and went over to the Busy Bee, where a waitress named Vivian* showed him to a table by the window.

"I'll be back directly. Want a refreshin' beverage in the meantime?"

"I suppose. What do you have to cure the humidity?"

She sighed. "If I had a cure for that, I wouldn't be workin' here. But...I can bring you a glass of buttermilk. Usually does the trick for Enos."

Smoothing his mustache with his fingers to hide a wistful smile, Broggi told her, "I believe I'll pass on the buttermilk. Perhaps an unsweetened iced tea instead?"

"You got it," Vivian said and sauntered over to the counter.

When she returned and set the tea down in front of him, she took a seat in the chair opposite.

"So, what was Enos like out there in Los Angeles? 'Cause he hardly ever talks about it...except for that time he found those emeralds in his footlocker and the time Frank Scanlon tried to get revenge on Enos for testifyin' against him."

Broggi cleared his throat. Strate had told him about the lightning speed of the local grapevine but he hadn't expected a grilling under hot lights.

"Word gets around real fast here in Hazzard...especially you bein' his commanding officer at Metro and all."

"I haven't been his commanding officer for many years. And I'm retired now," he corrected, taking a sip of his tea.

"Congrats," she said earnestly. "You know, Enos never stops talkin' about you and Turk but we don't get diddly squat out of that man about much else."

The sparkle in Vivian's eyes when she said Enos's name made Broggi wax a bit nostalgic. Officer Strate had left more than one disappointed female back in the City of Angels. Just as he was plotting a tactful response regarding respect for Deputy Strate's privacy, Enos walked through the door and greeted him with what he remembered as the most genuine smile he had ever seen. Although he would never admit it, that infectious and often irresistible goofy grin gave him hope that his little side trip had not been in vain.

The few hours Joseph Broggi spent with Enos in Hazzard had only been a warmup for Turk's weeklong visit less than a month later.

**April 1987**

Turk had been in Hazzard for five days before he got around to talking turkey with Enos. He'd been building up to it through three suppers at the Duke farm, two evenings at the Boar's Nest, a few wild car chases after Bo and Luke through the hills, and one really long really boring day in the basement of the Sheriff's office organizing files because they accidentally on purpose failed, yet again, to catch Bo and Luke doing something to violate their parole.

When Enos asked for Saturday off, Rosco said no way, no how.

"Saturday off? You dipstick! You done used up all your days off!" Rosco had declared, in mock indignation.

"But Sheriff, you said if my buddy Turk came to visit, you'd give me time off to spend with him, don't you remember?"

"He's been with you on patrol all week. So you already _been_ spendin' time with him." He looked at Turk. "An' neither of you brought in those Duke boys. They're still out there free as birds when they should be locked up like jailbirds."

"But we didn't catch 'em doin' nothin' wrong, Sheriff. Did we Turk?"

"Nope."

"Wellll...that's beside the point. You got standin' orders from Boss to make dang sure you find 'em doin' somethin' wrong." Rosco picked up a dog biscuit and bent down to hand feed it to Flash. "Idd'n that right, Flash."

_[Woof!]_

"Sheriff?" Enos asked, scratching Flash behind the ears. "If I recall, I used my last five days off for jury duty?"

"So, what of it?" He picked up Flash and walked to his desk.

"I didn't get paid by the Sheriff's Department so they don't really count as days off...strictly speakin'."

"Won't make no difference to Boss and he's the County Commissioner. If I was to give you extra days off, he'd fire the both of us."

"Yes, Sir, he is and he would. But Mr. Hogg, I mean the County Commissioner, never paid me the jury duty compensation for them five days I served. Hazzard County still owes me $170.00. If I can't get them days off back, then I'd kinda like the money for the jury duty now. If you don't mind, Sheriff."

"That's extortion!"

"No, Sheriff, beggin' your pardon, but it's the law. And...and now it's been forty-two days overdue for payment, county regulation says the County Commissioner owes me interest of one percent per day for every one of them days I ain't been paid."

He waited while Rosco tried to do the math in his head before putting him out of his misery.

"That's $241.40, Sheriff...not compounded of course – just addin' in the one percent per day off the $170. Now if I was to compound it...let's see that would be..."

"I don't need no math lesson, you lugnut!"

The more red-faced Rosco got, the less Turk believed he could hold it together.

"Well, I sure wouldn't wanna' cheat the county, Sheriff. So, since I wouldn't think of lettin' Mr. Hogg, I mean the County Commissioner, rack up any more debt on my account, maybe you could go get Mr. J.D. and I could get my $241.40 compensation for the pain an' sufferin' due to not gettin' them five days off that's in my contract."

"Enos, are you crazy. You know I can't go to Boss and tell him that."

"Got a copy of the uncollected IOU right here in my billfold." Enos pulled out his wallet and retrieved an IOU. "An' if you want, I can go get the book with the regulation."

After some intense speculating over the chicken scratch handwriting that was clearly done by his little fat buddy, Rosco hemmed and hawed, wondering how he was going to explain to Boss that he might have to fork over $241.40 to Enos out of his ill-gotten county skim money.

"'Course," Enos said, feigning a sheepish grin, "...if I was to get just one of them days back, I'd consider it compensation enough to pay that IOU, and we could just forget about them other four days the County owes me."

Enos hustled Turk out of the Sheriff's office while Rosco was grumbling about how Boss was gonna' put a horrendous flaw in his slaw for letting Enos bamboozle him like that.

When they climbed into Enos's truck and sped out of town Turk said, "Thought you didn't have a contract."

"Didn't before I left. But when I came back, that was part of the deal Boss Hogg made with the governor so that he wouldn't appoint me to the Georgia State Police jurisdiction over Hazzard County. Same reason he wouldn't really fire me."

"How long were you planning to carry that IOU around?"

Enos answered him with a mischievous grin.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Turk''s last day in Hazzard was spent fishing with Enos at Quarry Lake.

How Latoya Brown's death had affected Enos was never far from his mind when they spoke on the phone. Turk remembered vividly how he had been affected by his own first loss. No one could be a police officer in Los Angeles and avoid being exposed to the worst humanity had to offer and feel helpless in the face of it. He had told Enos as much at the time, but he had been too busy wallowing in self-pity to listen.

After spending two hours in silence, having caught nothing but several odd flip flops and two bikini bottoms left behind by midnight skinny dippers, it was Enos who broached the subject Turk had come two thousand miles to discuss.

"When Captain Broggi was here a few weeks ago, it wasn't because he just happened to be travelin' through this part of the country by accident, was it?"

In the previous five days, Broggi's visit had never come up in the conversation.

"No. But he _was_ on his way to see his daughter and her family in Philly."

"He coulda' taken a non-stop for that. You send him?"

"I...talked to him about coming here myself. It was his idea to route his flight through Atlanta and take the extra day. Did he waste his time?"

Enos only shook his head without taking his eye off his cork. There wasn't much to catch at Quarry Lake using a cork and stationary bait, but neither he nor Turk was there to catch fish. Besides, last night at the Boar's Nest, Daisy had promised them Uncle Jesse's crawdad bisque for Saturday supper.

"So, what did you two talk about, anyway?" Turk asked, annoyed that his cork was actually bobbing and hoped Enos would either not notice or not mention it.

Enos was embarrassed to say. Broggi told him he could only do so much and that he would never be able to save everyone; that he was going to make mistakes no matter how careful he was. And he needed to pick himself up off the floor, clean himself up and move on.

"You made a real difference in L.A.," Turk said, quietly. "You're never going to make a difference here in Hazzard. You know that, right? Not with what you're doing now. Not unless you're willing to dismantle Boss's operation."

"I know."

A month later, Enos was back in Los Angeles, temporarily staying in a room at Turk's mother's house, working to finish his degree in Criminal Justice at USC and becoming the oldest cadet at the LAPD Academy.

* * *

_**Atlanta, Georgia – February 5, 1998 (Eastern Time)** _

"Lieutenant, would you like some coffee?"

Special Agent Johnson's assistant, Victoria Aldric, drew him away from the disquieting memories with her question.

K.C. "Kit" Johnson had inherited the ongoing Lazzaro file, spanning more than thirty years, from Special Agent Wilburn, now retired, and Special Agent Stewart*, who was now with the FBI. They had taken it over in late 1985.

"No, thank you, I'm fine. But I _would_ like to see a couple of other files if I could."

"Agent Johnson said to give you whatever you need, Lieutenant," Victoria said in a distinctive Southern Georgia accent. It was different than Enos's accent – more lyrical.

"Thanks. I need to see the file on a...," he looked at his notes again, "...Darcy E. Kincaid, deceased in 1985 and Elias Malik, deceased...in...1991."

After half an hour reviewing the closed case files on Malik and Kincaid, he needed a break from the eyestrain and tension that had set in from what the Kincaid file revealed. Something he would need to discuss with Daisy and wondered if a four-hour window before his flight would be enough.

**Kincaid appeared to have been very low on the Lazzaro operation's food chain, and he was the only link, other than Daisy being in L.A. when everything went down in November, that Turk could find in the GBI files to Hazzard. Kincaid had met his maker thirteen years ago by having been killed in a very messy way that was still unresolved. It was definitely a woman though, considering the particular part of his body that had been blown away with a double-barrel shotgun.

He'd brought the LAPD's 1988 file on Hebert and its 1997 open-case file on Victor Mollaret on two discs he had already shared with Special Agent Johnson. His earlier meeting with her had been primarily to discuss the probable connections to drug trafficking between Mollaret, and/or his aliases, and Lazzaro; and to warn her about sharing any new developments in the Lazzaro investigation with _just_ anyone at the LAPD. The worst of it was, the original warrant for Etienne Hebert had disappeared, as if it had never existed, except for a reference about the application in the file and the living memories of Enos Strate and Inez De Pina.

Between Turk and Gordon Thompson, they believed in the trustworthiness of sharing information by, or to, anyone other than themselves about as much as they believed in the Easter Bunny. That they'd both become _uber_ paranoid had also occurred to them.

The 1988 Etienne Hebert file noted a background check on Katherine Denine Broussard that had been sealed in 1988, so no one in the LAPD could access the information without a court order. Whoever was manipulating the investigation wouldn't know about Kate's sister, at least not from the case files.

There was hardly any way to get around it - Daisy _was_ the key. He just wasn't sure 'to what' at the moment, and why there was no tap on Emma Tisdale's landline remained a mystery.

He stood up to stretch and work the tension out of his shoulder muscles when Victoria came back to let him know that Agent Johnson was back in her office.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Turk sat across the desk from Johnson waiting for her to review his notes. The view behind her was of the traffic on Panthersville Road and newly pruned crepe myrtle that wouldn't bloom until at least May. Beyond that, there was just a lot of green. While he waited, he flipped her business card through his fingers like a gambler does a poker chip. It was something one of his undercover alter-egos did to show off. Now it was just something he did to concentrate.

"What do you have on human trafficking in your files?" he asked after she looked up to indicate she had completed her review. "Have you been able to make any connection to Lazzaro's various operations?"

He had noted the reference to Kincaid's interstate transporting of 'meat and potatoes' between Georgia and Missouri had been interpreted by investigators at the time as 'women and drugs.'

"We don't have a special division that handles those cases, they're investigated on a per-region basis by agents at the fifteen regional offices around the state."

Turk rifled through papers in his briefcase and located a list. Handing it to Agent Johnson, he said, "That's a laundry list of the players involved that may overlap with the GBI's investigation."

She ended her perusal of the lengthy list with a low whistle and slumped into the back of her chair.

"If," he said, "we can make a solid connection to any of those names, we might find a way to nail the son of a bitch on something Federal." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his card. "I put the mobile number for my Interpol contact on the back. You get anything...anything at all, call him directly."

"Enos Strate. Why does that name sound familiar?"

"He was a deputy in Hazzard County until eleven years ago."

"Ah. Now I remember – Kincaid file." She looked quizzical. "How does a Deputy from that particular county end up at Interpol?"

"Long story."

"I'll bet," she said, wide-eyed. "Which reminds me, I started an inquiry about that phone tap on the Duke farm, another familiar name. Not sure you are aware, but Hazzard County has _quite_ the reputation. And I don't mean that in a good way."

"So I've heard," Turk said, clearing his throat and trying to circumvent any discussion about his personal connection. "I got a call from Mr. Duke about forty minutes ago. He'll fax the complaint, and authorization to investigate, directly to your office this afternoon."

Believing that the source of the tap would be traced back to someone in Lazzaro's operation wasn't making him feel warm and fuzzy – his insides were doing summersaults.

"I'll get the regional offices to start a search," Johnson said, clipping the card to the top of the file on her desk. "Can't promise you'll get any answers in the next few days – not even sure if we can get anything in the next few weeks, but it's something we never had before, so I'll expedite it. What else?"

"I wasn't able to find anything in the files I reviewed on Niki Lazzaro's whereabouts April to May 1998 but I did confirm he was _not_ in Atlanta for parts of the June to November time-line last year. I didn't find any detailed surveillance logs that are available for that time period."

"This here ain't L.A., Lieutenant," she said, sarcastically. "Even though "The Lizard" is high on our priority list, he's not the only reptile under the rock. We don't have the resources or the funds for that kind of round the clock long-term surveillance unless we have credible evidence to support a conviction at the end of it. You get us some Federal funding and then we can talk. Right now, I'm a task force of _one_. And all I have to work with is thirty-odd years of investigations that hit the wall and bounced back like a superball."

_Well, that hit a nerve..._

"I had to ask. We're trying to nail down when and where Lazzaro and Mollaret made that tape. The immediate concern is finding what happened to the female minor in the video," he said, stressing the last part with emphasis. "That we might be able to nail Lazzaro on a Federal charge for kidnapping and child molestation is secondary at the moment."

"Sorry. I know," she said, rubbing her temples. "I'll do what I can to isolate when he was in Atlanta at least. Maybe that will overlap with your Victor Mollaret's whereabouts. I assume you've found nothing identifiable on the tape that would point to a location?"

"Not yet – techs in L.A. are still working on it," Turk sighed with a frustrated groan and a little more empathy for her perspective. "Big city - big country. The tape could have been made anywhere in the US or even Mexico, or anywhere else where passports aren't required for entry." (+)

He'd already made a note to query the FBI or NTSB about any overseas travel for Lazzaro that _did_ require a passport. "Just remember what I said about sharing anything current. Mind you, I don't have any proof and there's no official investigation underway into any leaks. However, if you find _anything_ , please...let me or Strate know first. I might be easier to get hold of."

"Understood," she said. "I'll talk to the Director about it."

Despite what he initially told Daisy, after Turk left the GBI headquarters he felt like they were all passengers on the Orient Express headed for a train wreck.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Fifty-six year old Niki "The Lizard" Lazzaro oversaw his malevolent criminal empire sitting in his leather executive chair, at his pristine mahogany Narcissus desk, backed by a wall of cases filled floor to ceiling with books he had never read nor ever intended to read. Books, like his sycophantic toadies, were good only for stroking his enormous ego.

The one thing he could not relegate to underlings was the satiation of his personal deviance. However temporary the satisfaction always was, it had become more so in recent years. His appetite had become ravenous and nearly uncontrollable. The older he got, the more his hebephilia invaded every facet of his life – and his various operations. It had become more focused not only on specific physical attributes but the level at which fear in his prey could manifest his sexual fantasies.

He cursed himself for letting that idiot liability in L.A. manipulate him. Ordering that sloppy bayou born trash to be reduced to a charred lump of flesh in his own pigsty had given Niki enormous pleasure. He had a deep and abiding hatred for anyone who practiced but had no appreciation for, the finer points of depravity.

With a latex-gloved hand, he picked up the phone to call his idiot nephew in Los Angeles.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Hick Chick BBQ was situated about five miles from the Atlanta airport. Turk was leaning against his rental car when Daisy arrived.

"This wasn't what I thought you had in mind when you asked if I would meet you for dinner near the airport," she said when he opened her door.

Turk opened the passenger door on his car and motioned for her to get in. Catching the unmistakable smell of barbequed pork in the car and spying the Styrofoam® containers on the front seat, she was a little disappointed, although she couldn't have said why at the time.

"Not exactly how I planned it either," he said. "But I don't have that much time now that you and I need to have a little talk...about Darcy Kincaid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: *Special Agents Robert Wilburn and Tim Stewart are characters created by WENN9366 for her fanfic Halls of Stone and Iron.
> 
> **The death of Darcy Kincaid, as well as many other references to investigations by the above, is also a direct reference to Halls of Stone and Iron and has only been slightly manipulated to adapt to the background of this storyline. I suggest that you read Halls of Stone and Iron by WENN9366 – it's a GREAT Enos-centric story.
> 
> +Passports were not required for US citizens to travel to and from Mexico until 2007.
> 
> Hebephilia is the strong, persistent sexual interest by adults in pubescent children who are in early adolescence, typically ages 11–14 and showing Tanner stages 2 to 3 of physical development. Wikipedia


	48. Part 2 - Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter will end Part Two of Secrets, Bittersweet Memories, and Dolly Parton Goodbyes. Part Three is under construction now and will be the conclusion of the story in multiple chapters. Thanks for sticking with it this far, intrepid readers! 
> 
> The full testimony Enos gave before the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations is at the end if you care to read it.

**Part Two – Chapter Forty Eight:**

_**Hazzard, Georgia – March 1998** _

" _You ever been bit by a dead bee?_

_...You know, you got to be careful of dead bees if you're goin' around barefooted 'cause if you step on them they can sting you just as bad as if they was alive, especially if they was kind of mad when they got killed."_

~~Eddie, _To Have and Have Not,_ 1944

Little did Daisy know in what form her past would come back to bite her. Explaining to Turk that night in Atlanta, over containers of barbequed pork, how she was involved with Darcy Kincaid was difficult enough. Convincing him she hadn't pulled the trigger on that shotgun?

It took some fancy footwork because Daisy knew who _had_ pulled the trigger and it was not her story to tell.

Anyone who really wanted to know how, or why, Darcy Kincaid ended up in the hanger at Hazzard Airfield with his private parts blown to bits need only read between the lines of the third book of a prominent Hazzard author.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Over the month and a half since Daisy had met Turk in Atlanta, Hazzard had returned to some semblance of normal. Again, normal for Hazzard. Turk had cautioned her the process of gathering enough evidence to arrest and convict Lazzaro would not be a quick one.

So, February had fallen into March, and March became Spring; which in north Georgia meant rain, rain, and more rain. As well as the promise of wildflowers popping out of red dirt fields come April.

"Daisy, stop daydreamin,'" Bo called from the other side of the truck, "and help me with this. I don't want nothin' to get wet in case we get a downpour on the way to Finchburg."

Not realizing her mind had wandered off, Daisy returned her attention to the task of helping Bo. Pulling the tarp over the donation boxes of clothes and household items in the truck bed, she anchored it to the frame with a cinch strap on her side.

Unfortunately, Spring also brought a more dangerous kind of weather. When asked about the weather in Georgia, most people relied on an old adage: the South has four seasons - summer, football, pollen, and tornado. An F3 twister had done major damage over the weekend when it touched down in a neighboring county.

"Are we picking up Annie before we leave Hazzard County?"

"Nah, she's workin' at the school this mornin'."

"She mad at you again?"

"Maybe," Bo grunted and pulled harder than necessary on his strap.

Bo and Annie's tempestuous relationship notwithstanding, the phone was still tapped. The GBI had traced the source back to some shell company owned by Niki Lazzaro. He'd had the tables turned on him when the FBI rerouted all the calls from the farm through what they called a spoofer and the FBI had put a wiretap on his phone. Something, according to Turk, which took about 165 pages to apply for and usually took an act of Congress to get approved – or Cooter Davenport. It was something the GBI had been trying to obtain for years.

The family meeting to decide what they should do seemed to go on forever. One of the many times she missed Uncle Jesse's no-nonsense proclamations of _'the right thing to do over the easy thing to do.'_

Since early February, Turk had called Daisy's mobile at least once a week to check in ' _for Enos's peace of mind_.'

_**Goyang-si, Republic of Korea - March 1998** _

Enos fidgeted as he waited. Pulling the collar of his jacket up to cover the back of his neck, he wished he'd prepared a little better – like wearing his knitted cap to cover his ears instead of the plain, dark navy ball cap he'd been wearing when he came home from work. The longer he waited, and the more his ears stung, the more agitated he became about the reason he was camped out on the front steps of his father-in-law's house, in the dark, on a frigid evening in late March.

After he had been there ten minutes, Ms. Baek kindly brought out a hot cup of tea. She bowed apologetically several times, asking him respectfully to return later, without adding the _"after you've cooled down"_ dangling on the tip of her tongue.

He was spoiling for a fight and had no intention of cooling down. The document served to Soonie while she was alone and vulnerable was burning a hole in his inside coat pocket. It was enough to keep him rooted to the spot.

"It's none of your doin', Mizz Baek. I know you're caught in the middle and I'm real sorry about that...but I'd be much obliged if you would tell Mr. Mun I'm prepared to sit here 'til hell, or this stoop freezes over."

'Have it out' was closer to his intent. After three days in Taiwan, he'd come home and found Soonie in a highly agitated state and was at a loss to understand it. She had sounded fine when he talked to her on the phone earlier in the day.

At first, he thought it might be the stress of the custody battle and the effect it had on her coping skills. If she wasn't four months pregnant, the process wouldn't have put such a strain on her. Something else he'd begun to feel guilty about no matter how much she tried to convince him otherwise.

Soonie called his mobile three times in the first half-hour, begging him to come home. He refused. She threatened to come get him. He convinced her to stay home.

Another fifteen minutes ticked off before Mun Chung-hee made an appearance. As soon as he opened the door, Enos stood to face him. He did not bow to his father-in-law. Bowing was a show of respect.

He took off his shoes and his ball cap at the door and followed Mr. Mun into the sitting room where Baek Sung-mi stood, hands clasped together placidly at a subservient distance.

"Mizz Baek's got nothin' to do with what you and me have to talk about."

"I am present only to translate," she said softly, with a bow of her head.

Acknowledging her gesture with a similar nod, Enos returned his attention to Soonie's father.

"I know you can speak and understand English, Mr. Mun. But I understand enough Korean to get by if that's what it's gonna' take to get this settled."

Mr. Mun dismissed Ms. Baek in Korean. Enos caught enough of it to understand it was innocuous. However, she left only after giving her employer what Enos thought was a strange look. It seemed... defiant...not something he would have expected from her.

When she was out of the room, Enos pulled the document from inside of his coat and laid it on the table.

"I came here to get an explanation for this."

"I should think it self-explanatory, Mr. Strate." Apparently, Mr. Mun had decided to keep the conversation in English and nonfamilial.

"Yes, Sir. I understand the meaning. I just wanna' know how anyone could do something like this to his own daughter."

The document on the table was a petition to the court by Mun Chung-hee to block Gem's adoption.

"I do it for the child."

"She has a name."

"Yes, I believe you call her 'Gem.' Her name is Mun Eun-kyung."

"Her father, your son, is the one who nicknamed her Gem."

"Unfortunate my son is no longer here to corroborate that."

"Maybe if you'd paid more attention when he was alive, you'd be able to corroborate it on your own."

Enos knew he'd thrown out the poop and waited for it to hit the fan. Before either one of them could explore the result of said activity, Ms. Baek appeared in the sitting room with Gem holding her doll in one hand and dragging a coat with the other.

"We are ready to leave." Ms. Baek carried two suitcases, one small and one large.

"I forbid it!"

Ignoring him, Enos knelt to Gem and helped her on with her coat and received a tight hug in return.

"Ms. Baek, can you please take Gem into the foyer while I finish up here?"

Sung-mi took Gem's hand without any acknowledgment to Mr. Mun and led her into the small entry hall with the tiny little girl straining against her efforts and looking forlornly back at Enos. He tried to reassure her with a smile and a wave. When she and her nanny disappeared from view and he felt Gem was out of earshot, he turned back to his father-in-law.

"You can forbid it all you want, Mr. Mun. My wife has the legal right to custody and I'm taking her home. And if you _ever_ expect to be any part of that sweet little baby girl's life, you're gonna' need to find a right way of doin' it."

After all his efforts to find Eun-kyung's birth mother, none of which yielded any results, and the custody process had dragged on through March, Soonie had been awarded legal guardianship of Mun Eun-kyung by the family court under both her surnames: Mun, her legal patrilineal surname in Korea; and Strate, her legal surname in the United States. They were not required to adopt Gem in order to take her to the United States.

The will was upheld under the law giving the _paternal right to children_ and it irked Soonie no end. However, she had been willing to accept it to assure her guardianship as well as to maintain her father's involvement in Eun-kyung's life. If for nothing else than to avoid any more disruptions in her routine.

After the events of today though, Soonie swore she would move heaven and earth to deny her father any access to Gem. It was Enos who had tried to talk her down from the ledge.

Now he was right out there with her.

~~~~~*~~~~~

The financial crisis had hit South Korea hard, unnerving the public. Tens of thousands of people were either out of work or at a severely reduced wage. Seoul police officers refused to enter parts of the city because of the unrest. Panicked lenders were withdrawing credit from affected countries with the trickle-down finding its way to Mr. Mun's company.

It was the only excuse, thin as it was, for his behavior left to the man. Enos still held out hope he would come to his senses before he lost both his daughter and his granddaughter. If he didn't, he would also jeopardize any contact with the granddaughter who was yet to be born.

South Korea's economic issues were outside the walls of the Strate house. Inside, cradled in Enos's arms, Gem and her doll had fallen asleep while he was reading to her, exhausted from giggling over the funny voices he made.

He rocked with her for another few minutes, enjoying the peace it gave him. He had only remembered after the fact that Latoya's birthday had come and gone in February without commemoration. He would not forget her, but her death no longer haunted him. He supposed he had at last reached the final stage of grief after seventeen years.

Soonie turned down the covers while he gently slid Gem onto the little pallet bed. She pulled the covers back over her niece, then kissed her husband; her lips on his still tasted of honeysuckle nectar and morning dew.

"If you keep reading comic books to her, she will think it is how all Americans speak," Soonie teased.

"And my hill country accent'll give her a better example?"

"I love your accent. Te amo."

"Tu eres mi alma," he whispered and drew her into a protective embrace.

Spanish was the language they used for intimacy and for moments they kept for each other.

"Before Gem went to sleep, she called me Appa. I…I wasn't sure what to say."

"Is that such a bad thing?"

"Aren't you afraid she'll forget her real Daddy?"

"Enos, mi vida. No matter what my father or anyone else says, we are her parents now. It is what Jae-sung wanted for her and how it shall be. We will all remember him...She will forget only the pain."

* * *

**_Washington, D.C. – August 14, 2000_ **

The fifth witness to give his oral statement, Enos was wondering for the four hundredth time how he had ended up here. A country boy from a place most people had never heard of. A nobody. Honest Abe may have been born in a log cabin, but he wasn’t born and raised a moonshiner’s son from Hazzard County. _How the heck had he gotten himself roped into this?_

He felt in his pocket. The necklace was there.

When Ty saw how nervous he was before they left Los Angeles, he suggested Enos bring something with him into the hearing chambers that would ground him, keep him focused. Ty was right. It helped him to concentrate on what he needed to say instead of how out of place he felt. _I’ll be on a plane back home in a couple of hours._

Wrapping his fingers around the necklace, he took a slow, deep, calming breath. When the light on the timer turned green, the butterflies were gone. He was ready.

“Madam Chairwoman and distinguished members of the Committee. It is an honor to have been invited before you today to present testimony regarding the issue of T-visas for victims of human trafficking….

~~~~~*~~~~~

The statement was a few seconds shy of five minutes and he finished, without rushing, just before the red light came on. That was the easy part. Questions from the committee members had gone over the time limit for another excruciating twenty-five minutes. Seemed like hours to Enos. He barely remembered what they had asked or what he had answered. When it was over, Congressman Davenport and his new administrative assistant, Collin Carter, followed him out of the hearing room.

“Not as hard as you imagined, was it?” Cooter asked, putting a reassuring hand on Enos’s shoulder.

“No, guess not. But...after those women got finished, I wished we hadn’t had to water down the oral like we did. Don’t think I did very well with the question and answer part. Felt kinda like I was tryin’ to empty the ocean with a slotted spoon.”

“What are you talking about, Mr. Strate?” Collin gave him a puzzled look. “You fielded those questions like a pro. I didn’t see you pulling any punches in there. When you challenged the Senator from Missouri on his myopic view of trafficking, I nearly fell out of my chair. It was epic.”

“He’s right as rain, Enos.” Cooter smiled. “Don’t matter how watered down the oral presentation was, you didn’t let ‘em back you down. I’ve seen the Senator from Missouri in action – he ain’t no pushover. Nobody coulda’ asked for better.”

~~~~~*~~~~~

He drifted in and out during the flight home to Burbank, Ty’s question haunting him again.

* * *

 **A/N:** The following is paraphrasing I put together from a 2006 Fordham Law Review (a California Law Firm) article titled _Misery and Myopia: Understanding the Failures of the U.S. Efforts to Stop Human Trafficking_ which evaluated the effectiveness of the Victims of Trafficking and Violence Protection Act of 2000 (also referred to as the Trafficking Victims Protection Act).

From Wikipedia: The Trafficking Victims Protection Act was subsequently renewed in 2003, 2006, 2008 (when it was renamed the William Wilberforce Trafficking Victims Protection Reauthorization Act of 2008). The law lapsed in 2011. In 2013, the entirety of the Trafficking Victims Protection was attached as an amendment to the Violence Against Women Act and passed.[2] There are two stipulations an applicant has to meet in order to receive the benefits of the T-Visa. First, a victim of trafficking must prove/admit to being a victim of a severe form of trafficking and second must be a part of the prosecution of his or her trafficker. This law does not apply to immigrants seeking admission to the United States for other immigration purposes.

Public Law No: 115-393 (12/21/2018) reauthorized the TVPA in 2018, as part of the Trafficking Victims Protection Act of 2017.

TESTIMONY

of

BENJAMIN ENOS STRATE

Criminal Intelligence Officer, INTERPOL

Special Liaison to Los Angeles Police Department

In association with the California Committee to End Modern Slavery

for the

UNITED STATES SENATE

COMMITTEE ON FOREIGN RELATIONS

“To end the criminalization of the victims of Human Trafficking.”

August 14, 2000

Madam Chairwoman and distinguished members of the Committee. It is an honor to have been invited before you today to present testimony regarding the issue of T-visas for victims of human trafficking.

The California Committee, my colleagues at Interpol, and I wish to express our gratitude to members of both the Senate and House of Representatives for their support of the Victims of Trafficking and Violence Protection Act on its journey through Congress since November of last year.

Although I sit among peers in law and immigration enforcement, I appear before you today not to represent another arm of law enforcement, but to speak on behalf of victims of a pervasive evil that has spread across the globe and is now an epidemic in this country. The young women who have already bravely related their stories to you today each represent thousands of others brought to the United States of America either by trickery or against their will. Men, women, and children who are afraid to come forward because options are not available to them.

America is a major hub for human trafficking, both domestic and international, with Texas, Florida, New York, and my state of California being the top four destinations. You have been provided statistics upon which you will base the standards and limits of this Act.

“However, statistics, both globally and in this country, continue to be a challenge to compile due to unreported cases and a lack of understanding on the part of law enforcement about the nature and scope of the problem as well as what constitutes a “victim.”

It has not escaped our notice that members of Congress have been vocal on the exclusion _of any victim who has consented to some aspect of his or her transportation or employment_ in the debate concerning this Act.

Because many “victims” are tricked by the promise of a better life for themselves and their families only to have their passports and citizenship documents taken away by traffickers as soon as they arrive. 

The United Nations Protocol _clearly indicates that if exploitative conditions exist, the victim’s consent at some stage of [his or] her trafficking does not mean that the individual is not a trafficking victim._ _One of the major breakthroughs of the U.N. Protocol is that it emphasizes the element of coercion rather than the type of work that the trafficked individual is coerced into performing._ These guidelines have been largely ignored in the Act’s language drafted to date. 

Possibly, the proposed limit on T-visas available annually stems from that same perspective since approvals are predicated on the victim’s cooperation in prosecuting their abusers. Trafficking victims, whether trafficked for sex or forced labor, are rarely equipped to assist in prosecution, which requires the ability to think clearly, to provide details, and to tell a consistent story. People who have been victimized in this way, often for years, find themselves under constant threat, suffering dissociation, medical and psychological issues. They can become emotionally numb when relating traumatic events – as a defense mechanism. They develop learned helplessness and manifest a traumatic attachment to their captors. Those of us who have worked closely with victims have seen the carnage first-hand.

Access to skilled counsel, far from being assured by the restrictions of the T-visa or the current language of the Act, is necessary for these victims to comply with witness requirements. Placing limits on the number that are available annually serves only to exacerbate the problem.

The criminalization of the victim must stop.

_When services and protections are conditioned on the victim’s ability to meet difficult immigration eligibility standards and to cooperate with ‘every reasonable request’ by law enforcement, the law is not truly focused on protecting victims._

Therefore, we ask, ‘What is the standard for ‘reasonable’ in this scenario?’

 _To date, border interdiction strategies have been the primary tool used to prevent trafficking in the United States. But border enforcement efforts have served to increase rather than decrease human trafficking._ More interdiction will not decrease the demand, it will simply drive up the costs and fuel the profitability of an already lucrative criminal enterprise.

No doubt, you will hear other opinions to the contrary here today.

Despite compromises or limitations made in the process, our hope for this Act is that it will provide the means of fighting this evil thing on a national level. We believe the Act’s greatest contribution will be, at long last, making human trafficking illegal in the United States. That it has taken so long to do so is unconscionable. We are grateful the Trafficking and Violence Protection Act will firmly set that in stone with the vision that, in future iterations, trafficking in human beings will be made a federal crime.

In conclusion, I would like to thank you, Madam Chairwoman, for your leadership. To Members of this Committee, thank you for holding this hearing and for providing me the opportunity to appear before you today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Darcy Kincaid and the nature of his death are the brainchild of WENN9366 in Halls of Stone and Iron.  
> Translations:  
> “Te amo” means ‘I love you’ in more intimate terms (for lovers) than “Te quiero.”  
> “Tu eres mi alma” means ‘You are my soul.”  
> “Mi vida” means ‘My life.”


	49. Part 3 - Chapter 49

**PART THREE: Tangled Webs**

**_Hazzard, Georgia – November 25, 2013_ **

Sarah Jane parted the curtains slightly and peeked through the parlor window for the third time in ten minutes. That Yankee from New York would be arriving in a little more than an hour. Why her husband of fifteen years had insisted on meeting Mr. Lambert on the front porch was beyond her. 

Rosco P. Coltrane was in remarkable condition for a man on the low side of eighty-seven, having only recently given up his sheriff’s badge. Sarah Jane swore he’d have kept it until doomsday if not for the man who now wore that very same six-point star. Not as cool as some late Novembers, the air had a crispness, and she fretted about him sitting out there – waiting and thinking.

He was on the verge of a deepening nap when she appeared next to his big white rocker with a crocheted throw tucked under her arm. His eyes darted back and forth under softly pleated lids. _That mind of his was goin’ places it shouldn’t, rememberin’ things better left to the past_. They’d had words about it earlier, and he still wouldn’t budge. If he took notice as she laid the blanket over his lap and spread it over his legs, he didn’t let on—s _tubborn old coot._

_‘I got me a plan,”_ he’d said, tapping the temple of his head full of white hair, _‘and that’s a fact.”_

Expelling a deep sigh, Sarah Jane took a seat on the porch swing. _After buryin’ them once, why go diggin’ up the bones?_

**Part Three – Chapter Forty Nine:**

Tangled webs are spun with secrets,

and the spider is never far away.

~~The Author~~

**_Los Angeles, California – April 10, 1998 (Pacific Time)_ **

Joe Lance was in his office at major crimes division late when his mobile phone rang. Swearing under his breath at the number on the screen, he hit the button to answer.

“Hold on, I have to get out of the building.” He could hear his uncle seething on the other end.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Johen Orwin Clepas was born on June 12, 1951, in Ithaca, New York, to Anna Clepas, a nurse. Johen was eighteen when his mother died from an aneurism. Though he had asked many times, she had refused to tell him about his father. Her family, which consisted of an elderly grandfather and an aunt he barely knew, had no answers for him. He learned his father’s identity only by going through his mother’s papers after she was buried.

In a metal lockbox at the back of her closet, he found his birth certificate and his father’s name: Matteo Lazzaro. The birth certificate also listed a sibling. 

Somewhere, Johen had a fraternal twin brother.

Tracking Matteo down took the better part of two years and required the development of detective skills. In the end, he discovered his father, and consequently, the rest of his family in the state of Georgia’s public records. Before getting fatally stabbed one night outside a bar in Alpharetta, Matteo had been a petty thief. The only advantage he’d bequeathed to his son was an uncle named Nicholas Lazzaro, a well-established kingpin of a Georgia criminal organization based in Atlanta. Since 1968, Lazzaro had been under the scrutiny of the Georgia State Police, then elevated himself by becoming a significant blip on the Georgia Bureau of Investigation’s radar in the mid-70s.

After proving his lineage to ‘Uncle’ Niki, Johen went to work for him. Small things at first. Seeing potential in the boy, Niki sent him to college, believing he’d return an asset in ways other than being one of his regular gophers. However, Johen needed a name change, something that could not be traced back to the name Lazzaro. In 1969, Johen Orwin Clepas became Joseph Rowin Lance. By 1973, after graduating from the University of Southern California, he became a candidate for the Los Angeles Police Academy. In those days, Nicholas Alphonse Lazzaro was well known for playing the long game.

Niki bided his time grooming his nephew, keeping him legit and untainted until he could be of optimal use. The first job Sergeant Joseph Lance officially performed for his uncle was running two cops off a cliff in the north hills of Los Angeles.

~~~~~*~~~~~

When Lance was in the relative privacy of his car, he put the phone on speaker and turned the key in the ignition.

“What now? I told you this morning I would take care of it.”

_“Like you took care of the tape?”_

“There wouldn’t have been a need to take care of the tape if you and Hebert hadn’t made it in the first place and on my turf.” _Stupid morons_. “I’d have been the first one they suspected if that tape disappeared. A lot different than ‘losing’ the warrant on Hebert. Too many people knew about it. That eager-beaver from Mallory’s unit is hot to find out who’s interfering with their investigation…not to mention Adams snooping around your neck of the woods.” 

_“Just never you mind about what’s goin’ on here in Atlanta. Ah set you up in L.A. to facilitate mah west coast operation, not put it in the crapper. Besides, Ah have a job for you here.”_

“This is federal, Niki, in case it has escaped your notice. And I don’t see the Georgia Bureau backing off either. Looks to me like they’re closing in on you. And I can’t leave L.A. until I tie up loose ends.”

_“Those ends won’t be danglin’ anymore if the one here in Georgia gets tied up,” Niki said, spittle hitting the receiver on his end._

Lance thought _, ‘Oh, hell no! I am NOT going down for Niki’s mistakes, and especially not in Georgia.’_ He’d already taken care of Hebert, made the Broussard bitch disappear, and disposed of Crum. Just because Niki had set him up in L.A. didn’t mean he owned him. He’d done a lot over the years on his own. And he’d risen through the ranks to be an asset to furthering Lazzaro’s breaking into the L.A. market.

“So, Uncle Niki. Your phone still being tapped by the feds?”

_“You asshole,” Niki drawled out tediously. “Mah people figured out a way ‘round that little ole problem quicker’n you can say Jack Robinson. How the goddamn hell you think Ah’ve stayed out of prison all these years. Dumb luck? Fear and intimidation, that’s how, and goddamn smart Atlanta lawyers. Those jokers at the GBI’ve been tryin’ to nail me on something for thirty-odd years. Ah got flunkies for that…like you. And Ah’m not gonna’ end up in jail with any of them ‘cause of mah brother’s dumbass bastard brat.”_

The sound of Lazzaro’s artificial, saliva-laced southern voice grated on his last nerve. The deviant pedophile was a throwback, a dinosaur in a new world that needed new blood. The old man was losing it. His perverted addiction had screwed with his mind, and now Niki Lazzaro had become both a loose cannon _and_ a loose end.

**_Los Angeles, California – April 16, 1998_ **

If prostitution is the oldest profession and spying is the second oldest, then money laundering has to be the third, and a trade that provided salaries for the detectives in the financial crimes unit. One tradesman, David Shapiro, had not appeared on the unit’s radar ten years ago or since then for one reason. Inez De Pina.

She would not have done it for David or done it at all if not for Aaron. The twisted irony of it often made her sick to her stomach. In those days, E couldn’t read her as well as he did in the years that followed. The first time he touched her was in sympathy for the break-up with David without knowing what it was all about, what she had done to keep her son from finding out about his father.

E had even asked if there was someone else.

Yes, there was someone else, and he was touching her face at that moment. Neither of them understood at the time what it meant, or the spark he had lit. When she warned Hebert of the impending arrest, she drove the first coffin nail that killed any hope she would eventually harbor of being with E – ever. A week later, the truth came crashing in on her – when he held her to keep her warm, talked to her to keep her awake, and told her about his failure with Latoya. The well of his forgiveness was deep, but she hadn’t known that then. Afraid of losing him, fearing he would turn away. Now, the time for forgiveness had long passed. For what her silence and fear had wrought, he would not be able to forgive or forget. So, the desire was locked away, replaced by the need to be in his life, no matter how chaste. She gladly traded any hope of physical intimacy for the family they became.

Lazzaro’s responsibility for sending their patrol car over the cliff had made her angry. Living up to E’s expectations had made her defiant – keep the wolves from the door. Her attorney had enough documentation to put David, Hebert, and Lazzaro away. And now, the traitorous bastard he had sent to kill her and cause E to be collateral damage.

The phone calls from David had stopped. She would not let him intimidate her or ever again use their son as leverage. As she sealed a manilla envelope and put it in her tote, she glanced at Thompson’s desk across the room. He’d been trying to be surreptitious about watching her again. Didn’t matter. She’d led him to the place he needed to be, let him and Turk Adams gather the information that would lead to the mole in the department. They would have figured it out on their own.

_All good things must end someday..._

Inez’s time was quickly running out. The operation in Turkey would go down, and all hell would break loose. Before leaving the Parker Center lot, she made two phone calls: the first to her attorney to give him instructions on when to release the items to which she had entrusted him; the second to the private detective she had protecting Aaron in Boston. The manilla envelope was couriered to the FBI.

**_Santa Monica, California – April 16, 1998 (Pacific Time)_ **

Returning to the bungalow after shift, Thompson began to think he’d allowed himself to fall victim to his imaginings about Elektra. Parking in the lot across from her door, he observed a man around his age exit a Ruby Pearl ‘97 Lexus ES300 sedan and enter her bungalow. New at the ‘trust’ thing, he felt like a heel after running the plate.

Elektra's parents had died in a plane crash when she was eighteen. It was only Elektra and her brother, and, if he decided to get out of the car, he was about to meet Richard Daryl Van Der Pelt III, M.D. Wasn’t sure if he wanted to.

Because of the stepfather still in jail, Gordon Scott Thompson had no immediate family. He’d been at every parole board hearing in the last twenty-one years to make sure the bastard that killed his mother then turned his fury on her ten-year-old son rotted there. His personal history was something rarely confided to anyone. At work, only Captain Mallory and the LAPD shrinks knew. Elektra hadn’t asked about the scars, so he had not told her the same lie given to explain them away to the few sexual partners with whom he’d felt ‘safe’ in the last ten years. Early one morning, lost in the peace being with her gave him, she learned the truth. ~~~~

Where their affair was headed or where Thompson wanted it to go was riddled with uncertainty. What he knew for certain was that Elektra and not her alter ego provided the best cure for what ailed him. Perhaps, because they were both someone other than the person they each exposed to the universe at large. Elektra was the profoundly thoughtful and yet beguiling free spirit he knew. Clarissa Van Der Pelt was a stranger.

Preoccupied with ‘meeting the family,’ Tommy walked the short distance to her door without paying attention to the sound of skateboard wheels clicking across the joints in the sidewalk across the street.

~~~~~*~~~~~

“You should have called first,” Elektra said. Her eyes fixed on the door rather than her brother.

“And get another _‘it’s not a good time, Richard?’_ Been there, done that, got enough T-shirts to fill a boutique.”

By the time Thompson put his key in the lock and turned the knob, the argument was already in full swing. For a moment, he contemplated hot-footing it back to the safety of his vehicle. 

“Ah, must be the boyfriend I’ve heard absolutely nothing about,” Richard said without bothering to look at the man entering his sister’s residence – obviously with his own key. Whirling around, Richard offered his hand. “I’m the brother. And you are?”

Thompson’s temporary reprieve came in the form of his mobile phone ringing. Ducking in the bedroom to answer it, the thought occurred to him that might not have been one of his most excellent ideas. Took a lot to frazzle Gordon Thompson. At least they had disassembled the murder wall, which previously could be have been seen from the brother’s current vantage point.

By the time he reappeared, Elektra had explained who he was. The knowledge accomplished little to enhance Doctor Van Der Pelt’s attitude. The rest of the evening degraded into excruciatingly awkward. Both Tommy and Elektra would end up wishing it had stayed that way.

**_Hazzard, Georgia – April 16, 1998 (Eastern Time)_ **

Jagged tendrils of lightning crackled across the heavens and made the world around her seem as if it was trapped inside a giant plasma ball. Thunder vibrated the ground in slow-rolling rumbles.

Daisy remembered a time when the folks in northeast Georgia hardly paid any mind to lousy weather. When she was little, night storms were frequent in the hills. An opportunity to play cards at the kitchen table by lantern light, make popcorn in the fireplace, and empty the pots placed around the house to catch leaks. Or perhaps that was just her perception, while Aunt Lavinia and Uncle Jesse did the worrying. As an adult, stormy nights were spent keeping a watchful eye on the sky, and both ears peeled for the sound of hail on the roof.

Harlon at WHOGG started his program every day with, “Good Mornin’ Dixie Alley.” Too far out for warning sirens, rural Hazzard County relied on the C.B. and local weather alerts from battery-operated radios. Television was unreliable because the power went down in any old strong gust of wind. 

Feeling her phone vibrate against her skin, she pulled it from under the quilt. The tiny screen lit up with a now-familiar Los Angeles number.

“Hi, Jay.”

Daisy had been calling Turk ‘Jay’ since he introduced himself to Professor Duncan as J. Bertrand Adams. He’d refused to tell her what the J stood for. _He didn’t hate it._

_“Hi, Daisy. I was watching the weather for your area. I see you’re under a tornado watch again.”_

“Third time this month…second time in the last week. Seems to be holding off here, though…for now. But Choctaw County’s getting hammered.”

Thanks to an increase in tornado drills at the kindergarten, Luke and Sophie had spent a few nights with Emily snuggled between them in bed. Luke and Enos would someday bond over the challenge of raising girls, but for now, Luke was not complaining.

A blinding shaft of pure light pierced the ground a few miles away. The deafening boom that followed a few seconds later made the teacups in Emma’s curio cabinet rattle with a tinkling sound.

_“That sounded close. Where are you anyway?”_

“Sittin’ out on the porch, watchin’ the light show.”

_“Is Miss Tisdale out there with you?”_

Emma was fast asleep and snoring softly at 10:00 pm. At this stage of her life, hardly anything phased the wiry little elf. Rocking slowly over uneven boards, Daisy adjusted the quilt over her legs and wished she could say the same.

“She’s been snug as a bug for an hour. As long as she’s got acorns on the windowsills, she could sleep through the apocalypse. It’s just me and the June bugs out here.”

_“You sure you haven’t been back in Hazzard too long already? June bugs? It’s April.”_

“Tell that to the armor coated critters committin’ suicide all over this porch.”

Turk stifled a laugh _. “Speaking of overstaying Hazzard, you check out that apartment in Atlanta you told me about?”_

“Paid the first and last month rent yesterday. I’m packed and ready to move. But I don’t have to make an appearance at Emory for another couple of weeks. I thought I should stick around here until then. See what happens–”

_“Doesn’t give you much settling-in time, Daze. Staying in Hazzard won’t have any effect on what’s going down half a world away.”_

“It’s just...I told Bo about the rescue operation, but Annie doesn’t know anything about it yet. I think I should be here...in case it’s bad news. Annie and Bo are going through a rough patch right now. He’s afraid to get her hopes up, and if...if something goes wrong–”

_“Kate’s alive. And he’s going to keep her that way, or I don’t know him at all. Look, the reason I called so late is to tell you they set a date for the operation. Thompson and I talked to Enos on a conference call this afternoon. They’re going wheels-up tomorrow.”_

He detected anxiety in her voice. _Was it for the man she would always love as a friend or because she still harbored deeper, romantic feelings for Enos?_

_“It’s not just him by himself, you know. He and several other Interpol officers are coordinating it, but the Turkish government forces will be conducting the raid.”_

“I know, Jay, but I’ve been reading about some of the terrible things that go on there…How does Enos know he can trust a government with so much corruption? It’s not like Boss Hogg’s type of petty graft. That place is…real.”

_“Daisy. Real is what we do.”_

Another close strike of lightning jolted her, this time with an awareness that her apprehension regarding the realities of being a police officer was no longer exclusive to Enos.

**_Santa Monica, California – April 16, 1998_ **

While droning on about Elektra’s current lifestyle, her brother refused to call her anything but Clairissa.

*Clarissa, why arent’ you working on your Ph.D.?* _(She had no intention of enlightening him.)_

*Clarissa, why aren’t you living in the house Mother and Father left you?* _(Too big, inconvenient and not in the place where she could research her dissertation on ‘Philosophical Foundations in California Beach Culture.’)_

*Clarissa, why do you insist on looking like you just crawled out of a vampire movie?* _(Why the hell did he care?)_

It went on and on.

_No wonder she avoided her brother. Was that how she had seen him in the beginning? Had he been that much of an ass?_

Strate hadn’t been judgemental. His genuine concern had been straight forward and come from respect _– ‘hurt her, and I’ll mess you up.’_ That, Thompson could understand. That, he could accept. Then, he was suddenly struck with the image of Strate fetching corndogs for some parody of a backwoods country sheriff – like that would ever happen.

It was the third phone call that escalated the conversation and brought out Elektra’s claws.

“Again?” Richard stood as Thompson went into the bedroom a third time like he belonged there. Well, technically he did.

“He’s a detective, Richard. He’s on call. You know, like a doctor.” Elektra enunciated each word slowly.

“Man wasn’t even paying attention before the phone call,” Richard shot back.

“He might have if you had come in here with the right attitude. Tommy was invited. You weren’t. So, go home, Richard, to your perfect wife and your perfect kids and your perfect life and leave the real people alone to do the dirty work for you.”

“That was uncalled for.”

“It was very called for. Go home! Get out of my face and out of my space until you can accept me for who I am and who I choose…I choose, Richard…to be with.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed biting a blood clot into his bottom lip, Thompson could barely hear Angela Kim giving him the report he requested before leaving the office.

~~~~~*~~~~~

At the end of the street, surveillance distance from #20, in an unlit area of the lot, the argument was unheard and unseen. Inez De Pina sat behind the wheel of the car and steadied a pair of night vision binoculars with one hand. She stuffed the last bite of a burrito into her mouth with the other. Reaching over to the passenger seat for a napkin without looking, she paid little heed to the food box sent sliding off the edge of the passenger seat. Spilling onto the floorboard, salsa splattered the mats, and tortilla chips flew everywhere.

She had no time for housekeeping. The twenty-five year old in the board shorts who had been surveilling Thompson and his weird girlfriend had caught her attention. It was not the first time, or the second, or even the tenth. He and his skateboard had frequented that strip of sidewalk more than any other.

Lazzaro’s reach was long.

Pulling a Kevlar® vest from the back seat, Inez opened the passenger door and slipped out, staying low until she reached the cover of thick plumy pampas grass along the sidewalk. She had reconnoitered the area days ago. Lazzaro didn’t hire idiots, but he didn’t hire the brightest colors in the crayon box either. She got the drop on him with her service weapon faster than he could react. He was on the ground and being cuffed before he could get a good look at her.

“Just keep quiet and you won’t get hurt.”

“Who the hell are you? You a cop? I was minding my own business.”

“Never mind who I am. You got a name, son?”

“Who wants to know? If you’re a cop, you gotta tell me why you’re arresting me.”

“Oh, I’m not arresting you.”

She put a blindfold over his eyes and picked him up from the ground, a bit of a comical sight, and likely embarrassing for him, considering he outweighed her by about a hundred pounds. It might have been the cold steel barrel she had poked in his ribs that had convinced him to keep quiet and cooperate. How was he to know she had no intention of shooting him?

The argument inside the bungalow stopped dead when Inez pounded on Elektra’s door.

~~~~~*~~~~~

By the time he heard the third strike on the door, Thompson was out of the bedroom with his Baretta drawn, motioning Elektra and her brother to get down. When Inez identified herself, he relaxed and puffed out a relieved breath.

Angie Kim’s voice came from the phone still in his hand, _“Detective Thompson, are you in trouble?”_

“No. At least I don’t think so. Hold on.”

Without reholstering the gun, he asked through the door, “Detective De Pina. What are you doing here?”

“Let me in, and I’ll tell you…unless you want the neighbors to know.”

_“Do I need to send a unit?”_

“No, I got this. I’ll get back to you later.”

He hung up the phone, raised the gun, and unlocked the door. 

“You can put it away, Thompson.” Inez led the blindfolded man into the bungalow and sat him in one of the two small chairs at the kitchenette table. With her back to Thompson, she didn’t notice the exasperated expression on his face.

Needless to say, Richard Van Der Pelt was neither impressed nor amused and gave the impression he expected an explanation.

“De Pina, what the fricking hell are you doing here, and why do you have this guy cuffed?”

“He’s been watching you for days.”

Elektra looked mildly amused, and Richard looked as if he was going to go ballistic if someone didn’t explain what was going on.

“No, Inez, he’s been watching Elektra for weeks.”

“If you knew, why didn’t you do anything about it?” Inez asked.

“You think I could get this blindfold off?” asked the guy in the board shorts.

“Because,” Thompson said as he pulled out his cuff key. “He’s an off-duty sheriff’s deputy I hired to watch over her while I was at work.”

Now Inez was confused.

“Because she went snooping around Downtown Movie Rentals trying to find some evidence of where that tape was made…without telling me.”

He glared at Elektra. They’d shouted more than a few angry words at each other on the subject.

“I wanted to help find that little girl.”

“It was colossally stupid.” Thompson was still glaring, and his ears had reddened. The subject was always one that could turn into an argument between them.

“If Mom and Dad are done fighting…blindfold, cuffs…still on.”

Thompson removed the blindfold from the deputy and released him from the cuffs. “Some protection you turned out to be. How’d she manage to get the drop on you?

“It would be kind of hard to explain to my supervisor why I slugged an LAPD detective, especially since I recognized her. I took the better part of valor.”

Inez berated herself for being so off her game that she’d exposed herself to a suspect. “You know who I am.”

“I was LAPD before I joined the sheriff’s department. You were an instructor when I went to the academy. You made an impression.”

“What, were you twelve?”

“Detective De Pina meet Deputy Nathan Dunn.” Thompson said. He almost smiled.

“By the way,” Dunn asked, pointing at Richard, “who’s he?”

“Well, I’m glad someone around here finally acknowledged my presence.”

Elektra rolled her eyes. “Told you to go home.”

“Clarissa, what in God’s name have you gotten involved in?”

“It’s called life, Rich, you ought to try it sometime.”

After another rehashing of her questionable life choices, Richard departed, leaving Inez to make up a plausible excuse for why she had been watching the bungalow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All good things must end someday… is from ‘A Summer Song’ by Chad & Jeremy 1964


	50. 50

**Part Three – Chapter Fifty:**

**_Turkey, Anatolia Region – April 17, 1998 (Turkish Time)_ **

The inside of the hummer felt stuffy and warm and discarded bits of Lahmacun filled the cramped space with the odor of day-old garlic. Clad in level three tactical gear, Enos folded his hands under his chin and prayed he wouldn’t let anyone down.

He worried about a good many things.

He worried about Soonie’s relationship, or lack thereof with her father, and that his daughters would grow up without a granddaddy. He worried about Annie and if he would have to call on Ginny to move her again. That might be up to Annie herself. She was a grown woman now and should be able to make her own decisions. Ginny was merely on stand-by as a contingency.

He worried about Daisy and her family. Though they all had a mobile phone to rely on other than the landline at the farm, Luke checked for bugs at the farm, Emma Tisdale’s house, and at Annie’s on a daily basis. They seemed reasonably safe, though he believed Luke would not forgive him for putting them through the last two months.

He twisted the gold band on his pinkie finger. 

That morning, before leaving for the airport, he and Soonie had held each other in the softly lit bedroom while the violin mix she had recorded for him drifted around them. His eyes recorded the features of her face as if to etch them beside the grooves of the disc he would carry with him. She _was_ the music. With only moments before he would have to let her go – for how long he didn’t know – he had drawn her closer yet and pressed his cheek against hers.

“I’m not sure I can do this…leave you without knowing when I’m comin’ back. Te amo. More than anything. More than my own–”

Her lips stopped him from finishing the thought. Soonie always knew how to stop him from saying something she couldn’t bear hearing out loud.

He was able to walk out of the house only after he felt the warmth of the skin, lost himself in the eyes, and tasted the kiss of the one thing in the world he might not survive losing.

“Strate. Take a look around. Get your bearings.” His team leader prodded him away from anxious thoughts while applying the INTERPOL patch to the back of his flak jacket. 

Enos straightened up to look out through the hummer’s thin slit of a window at the mountainous terrain of Kurdish Turkey. Though the camp where Kate had been a prisoner for five months was so far back in the region you’d have to pump in the sunshine, Enos thanked the heavens it was located in a plateau area – bettered their chances.

“Yes, Sir.”

“You must stay with the medical team until you locate Ms. Broussard and then retreat – nothing more. Are we clear on this issue?”

“Yes, Sir, we’re clear.”

“I spent an hour this afternoon, convincing the Turkish Commander you don’t have a hero complex. Do _not_ make me a liar – especially to that arrogant SOB. _”_

“No, Sir. I mean, I’ll do my best not to let you down.”

“Then go. And keep your eyes open for Tansu. If we can catch him in the act of conspiring with that band of pirates, this operation will surpass expectations.”

Tansu, a member of the Turkish government, was purported to have the power of life or death, at least over the locals, and was working with private armies of a Kurdish tribal chief, a deadly combination. To be allowed boots-on-the-ground, he’d had to demonstrate his close combat skills to the Turkish Commander. It wasn’t technically protocoled for an Interpol officer, especially one from another country’s NCB. And he would go in unarmed.

Enos pressed his lips to the tiny peach pearl embedded in Soonie’s wedding ring, lifted the camo neckerchief to cover his mouth and nose, then jumped out of the hummer to join the Turkish paramedics.

**_Los Angeles, California - April 17, 1998 (Pacific Time)_ **

The raid in Turkey had come as a complete surprise, at least to Joseph Lance.

Nicholas Lazzaro liked torture in all its forms, and he practiced his most subtle techniques on those who dared to think they had him figured out. His nephew, by unfortunate birth, was such a person. Niki had given him tidbits of information about his brother over the years only to withhold the most important. He had just learned his brother’s name was Darcy Kincaid and that he’d been murdered in 1986.

_“…An’ If you want to know who killed your brother, you gotta’ come to Atlanta. I’ll even have mah plane waitin’ for you in Las Vegas. But you gotta get there on your own.”_

“You bastard. You’ll tell me now.” Lance trembled with fury and fear at the same time.

_“You got no wiggle room to go makin’ demands. Ahm givin’ you information the cops and the feds don’t have yet. You just better be thankful that my people in Turkey called me right after everything went down. And we ain’t even discussed why you let the Broussard bitch live instead of disposin’ of her as to mah particular instructions to do otherwise. So, ya’ll better get a move on, Joey boy, b’fore the feds or the LAPD or the GBI put a warrant out on your ass that even my smart Atlanta lawyers can’t get you out of. Or b’fore I change my mind about family responsibilities. I estimate you got about six hours or so b’fore a lotta folks get all hot and bothered about nailin’ your hide to the barn door.”_

“Goddammit, Niki. Tell me who it was.”

_“Nope, don’t think ah will.”_ Niki was snickering on the other end of the phone. “ _Ah will tell you one thing. Ahm not the only one knows who killed Darcy Kincaid. That ‘hick’ detective, you know, the one you overestimated? Enos Strate? Back when he was a deputy in Hazzard County, he had your brother’s killer cold, and he let her go. Covered it up too’s my bet. But looky here…he’s kinda outta your reach at the moment ain’t he? So, you better be on that plane headed back here to Atlanta in a pretty damn quick hurry b’fore you find yourself in federal lockup.”_

Niki was a master manipulator, even to the extent he would let people believe he was losing it. Niki never ‘lost it.’ And that was Etienne Hebert’s mistake.

~~~~~*~~~~~

In a dark house in Baldwin Hills, Joseph Lance peered through the blinds of the second-floor bedroom window before returning to his task. ~~~~

Niki had been right. He would be a wanted man by morning. Abandoned in a ravine in the hills, his car wouldn’t be found for days. A taxi had dropped him ten blocks away; he had walked from there. Inez De Pina’s house was the last place anyone would expect to find him. _After all, he was more intelligent than any of them. He’d fooled them all these years_. 

Rifling through closets and drawers, he stuffed her clothes and underwear into a khaki duffel bag, then added pictures from her nightstand, making sure to grab them the way someone would while packing in a rush. In the nightstand drawer, he found other photos, unframed – what a treasure trove. He scooped them up, letting a few of them slip through the grasp of his gloved hand.

“Be careful who you make your enemy, Detective,” he said, bending to retrieve one of the pictures from the floor with a smug grin on his face. “H.R. might think you were lying to them all these years.”

He’d only had five hours since the call from Niki about the raid in Turkey to make his escape. Now, a more complete plan began to take shape in his mind. De Pina and Strate had done half the work for him. Carefully lifting the bed pillow, he placed under it a four by six image of the two of them stretched out beside each other on a blanket. Likely her son had snapped the photo on some innocent family picnic, but the facts wouldn’t matter. The seed will have been planted.

Placing the bag back into the closet, he listened for the sound of her car in the drive.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Inez sat in the car for half an hour before entering the house, partly because she was thinking about the last two days. Earlier, her day had consisted of going through the motions, feeling much the same as E had when he came back from Hazzard. Her problem could not be mended by finding love. She had been staying at the house again since just before Aaron had come home for Spring Break. The past few months had been a downhill slide into despair, loneliness, interrupted only by Aaron’s visit. As much as she had tried to pretend nothing was wrong, he had seen through it, and she wondered what he had told E. 

What David had done, what he had exposed their family to was nothing compared to conflagration she would cause, and it was killing her. Mallory had noticed. Her department physical showed extreme fatigue, and the captain had ordered her to take some time off – she had been driving herself too much, spending all her energy on work and not enough on herself. He wanted her to go and visit Aaron or go somewhere.

Turk had hit the nail squarely on the head. E was _her_ addiction.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Once in the house, Inez sank into the couch where she could still see tiny traces of E’s blood from six months before. In the house where they had raised Aaron together, the fear of the shitstorm that tomorrow would bring paralyzed her. If an earthquake opened a fissure in the earth and swallowed her now, it would be a blessing – and more mercy than she deserved.

In the morning, she would walk into Mallory’s office and tell him the whole story – she needed him to know before the FBI received the envelope that would send her down the disposal with the rest of the garbage.

Her eyes shut tight, the tears fell on the inside and burned into her throat like acid. Nothing would make amends for the pain she would cause… _had_ caused. Blood pumped hard behind her ears like drumbeats.

Then, she felt the sting of a needle in her neck before everything went blank.

**_April 29, 1998_ **

_“Y’know, that was the time I was most frightened, waitin’ for my turn. I’ll never put on a life jacket again. So, eleven hundred men went into the water, three hundred sixteen men come out, and the sharks took the rest…”_

_Jaws (Quint),_ 1975

~~~~~*~~~~~

Amidst the soft whir and occasional beeping of patient monitors, Enos’s chest expanded and contracted evenly on the journey out of deep sedation. 

_Where in the rule book of life, does it say that he should have to bear such responsibility? So much guilt? So much pain? Had he been here before?_ _Why were his eyes covered?_

_Why couldn’t he just forget…this time?_

****

**_April 19, 1998 – ten days earlier_ **

**_Flight 71_** **_from Amsterdam_**

Kate sat uneasily in the window seat on the port side of the plane, fidgeting with her hands and flinching at every subtle change in sound. Being able to look out the window helped, even if the only thing to see was an endless expanse of ocean, sky, and clouds.

Enos tried to disguise his concern at how drained she appeared. The auburn in Kate’s hair had become a dark rust tone, her skin had taken on an anemic pallor, and having lost nearly thirty pounds, she was thin as a rake. She’d only had a day to recover before they boarded the plane back to the States. 

“Kate, are you sure you’re okay? Do you need anything?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked, nor would it be the last during the flight.

“I was thinking of the others in the camp...the ones we left behind. Most of them are so young. Their childhood taken from them–”

Enos thought of the twenty-seven youngsters still on the list of missing girls from Belarus and Ukraine. They were a few among thousands. Their files and yellow notices had to be updated or re-entered every three months to keep them in the Interpol missing person database.

“They’re bein’ cared for. I promise I won’t let ‘em get lost in the shuffle.”

“I could never get a better assurance than that. You never gave up on me.”

Sadness laced her voice, prompting him to take her hand. The warmth of Soonie’s wedding band calmed her.

“I still can’t believe you’re married and going to be a father soon,” she said and then reminded herself that Enos had been a father to Aaron for nearly nine years. “I mean…Aaron–”

“I know what you mean.”

As if fretting over his responsibilities to Soonie and to Annie were not enough, Aaron’s last email had him tied in knots. The boy had written volumes between the lines of a few paragraphs. Hints dropped in earlier letters already niggled at the end of his nerves and vibrated his spidey sense. He hadn’t been able to get Inez to return his calls or emails, and no one had heard from her in the last twenty-four hours.

“You wanna’ see a picture of our little girl?”

“Of course, I do.”

There had been no time after the raid for exchanging personal information. Everything happened quickly. After returning to the hummer with Kate, amid the deafening noise of gunfire, his memories of Halloween night came back like a rockslide in the canyon when he heard her voice for the first time in months. _She had told him about Lance on the phone. Why Lance hadn’t killed her then, and there was still a mystery to them both._

When he flipped his wallet open, his Interpol I.D. was the first thing she saw. Something else Kate was trying to process. She had thought he would never leave the LAPD. But then, his being married, having a five-year-old daughter, and one on the way was not something she’d imagined either. From behind the I.D. he retrieved several photos and showed her the most recent picture of Soonie and the picture of a small girl dressed in a pink and teal _hanbok_ and smiling under large glasses.

“Her name is Eun-kyung, but we call her Gem. In kind of a round-about way, it’s what her name means in Korean.”

“She’s precious, Enos…how hard it must have been for you to leave them…that beautiful little girl…your pregnant wife…it must have been hard for her to let you go off to find–” Her voice trailed off, and she turned back to the window, tears escaping her best efforts to stop them. The magnitude of what he had done to find her was beyond her comprehension, even for him.

“Kate...please don’t.” His voice was low and gentle, full of so many things he was not saying. His attempts to divert her attention had done just the opposite.

“I wish I hadn’t been the reason you had to leave them,” she whimpered, turning back to look into his hazel eyes. “Not sure if I’m worth it. I was so stupid.”

“Kate, stop it. None of this was your fault. You saved my life a year ago. I finally got a chance to return the favor. If you wanna’ blame someone, blame Lance.”

After Lance had drugged and transported her to a leaky freighter in San Francisco, she’d awoken in a makeshift cabin of rusting metal, suffering from seasickness. The sleeping accommodations were limited to a choice of a cot with a thin, urine-stained mattress or the filthy floor.

The joint Interpol/Turkey operation had taken three weeks to plan and set up. Eventually, the public record of Kate’s rescue would tell of the 233 sex trafficked victims liberated in four different brothel camps in Turkey. For now, Interpol and the Turkish government were not releasing details. The Turkish Human Rights activists were after bigger fish in the Black Sea. There was little doubt the East European trafficking trade would have failed to catch wind of it by now. There was an intricate network and connectivity in the underworld, even between competitors when it came to having holes blasted in their operations.

Since Joseph Lance had seemed to disappear off the face of the earth, the sooner they touched down in Los Angeles, the better. Enos gave Kate a weak smile, then sneaked another peek at his watch, wishing he had one of the cheat sheets Soonie always made him.

“We’re going backward in time. Still have a hard time wrappin’ my brain around it.”

His goal was to distract her for at least the flight from what she’d been through. He felt as if he was failing miserably. She had enough on her plate, so he hadn’t shared the details of his call to Turk and Tommy with her.

Kate went quiet for a while.

Daisy had taken photos of Annie and Bo, one of which she held in her hand and rubbed between her fingers as if it was a piece of satin from a childhood security blanket.

“Mignon is the only thing that kept me alive. Do you think I’ll _ever_ be able to see her again?”

Enos had no answer to that question and could only hope Annie had been told about the rescue. Turk had become his lifeline to Hazzard – and to Daisy. And he’d said to him that Bo was refusing to tell her or let anyone else tell her just yet.

“Never mind, forget I asked. I’m just anxious. Can’t help it.” Kate’s eyes shimmered in the cabin light. “It’s hard to believe she’s been in Hazzard all these years...Enos, tell me about Bo.”

The next three hours were spent reprising to Kate an abridged but unvarnished travel guide of Hazzard County and what he knew of her sister’s life there. He made no mention of any bad feelings Bo might be harboring for Kate. They would have to cross that bridge at some point, but not today.

Afterward, she leaned her head toward the window and fell into an uneasy sleep. The fire and venom that marked her first thirty days in captivity had dissipated into despair over the long months of thinking no one would ever know what happened to her.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Enos felt a hand on his forearm and looked up at their flight attendant, Myla. The airline upgraded them to first-class when they learned why an Interpol officer and his charge had boarded the flight in Amsterdam.

“Mr. Strate, I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said in a low voice to be sure she didn’t wake the sleeping woman in the window seat. “The air marshal would like to speak with you, and he didn’t want to disturb Ms. Broussard.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. I’d be much obliged if you could sit with her while I talk to him. If that’s alright.”

“Of course,” Myla said, moving to give him ample room in the aisle, then took the seat beside Kate.

Enos walked the short distance to the front row in the economy section where Air Marshal Dirk Ledger was seated. He’d been placed on the international flight in Amsterdam as an extra precaution to safeguard a federal witness, namely Katherine Denine Broussard.

After sitting in the seat next to Ledger, Enos asked, “Sir, you needed to see me?”

“No need for the ‘Sir,’ Mr. Strate.”

“Sorry. Upbringin.’ Just comes natural. I wanted to thank you for bein’ on the flight. Gives both of us some peace of mind.”

“I’m just a glorified babysitter, so no need to thank me. From what I understand, you’re the one who did all the heavy lifting.”

Enos flushed. After all the years out in the big wide world, he continued to be embarrassed by accolades.

“Anyway,” Ledger continued, “The captain asked me to let you know your flight to Los Angeles has been changed. When we land in Newark, we’re switching to a flight to Atlanta.”

“Why...Atlanta?” Enos asked. Instinct kicked in and made his heart beat faster.

“I don’t have that information. The message said a Lieutenant Adams would meet you at the airport when we land.”

“Why would Turk be in Atlanta?”

Enos had said it to himself, but Ledger asked, “You know the lieutenant?”

“Yes, Sir…yes. Drug enforcement…LAPD.”

Air Marshal Ledger looked as if he were going to ask another question but decided to let it go.

“Wish I could tell you more. The pilot said the airline will make sure we get to the connection, but it looks to be tight on timing. You might have time for a phone call between flights.”

Enos vacated the seat and put out his hand to Ledger. “Thanks again. I better be getting’ back to Kate now.”

Returning to first-class, his brain involuntarily ticked off the possibilities; none of them good.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Memories are a strange thing. Some reassemble themselves and flow back in a linear timeline. Some are scattered bits and pieces that must be recreated like a puzzle. Yet others are lost, the mind keeping a placeholder for it in hopes that one day it will be found.

Filling the placeholder of Enos’s memory was the final puzzle piece that Thompson needed to prove Elektra’s coincidence theory. When he confronted the teenagers who had accidentally injured an off-duty police officer with the two by four they had been using to tip dumpsters on Halloween night, he found they were more relieved than scared. The idiots still had his mobile phone. There was no end to how stupid seventeen-year-olds can be with a vehicle, a credit card, and a snootful of alcohol.

While Enos was trying to distract himself from why Turk would be in Atlanta when he was supposed to be meeting them in L.A., Kate was reconstructing her memories in a fitful sleep.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Existence in the camp is an endless cycle of drugs, alcohol, and sex. Except when it serves her captors’ purposes, drugged most of my ‘stay’ here at _Hotel Hell,_ to keep me under control, to keep down the fire and spit I spew at them while not under the influence. Some of the brothel patrons appreciated the challenge. 

Gunfire.

Gunfire again – as common an occurrence as the men that frequent my cell.

I will get through it. Like I’ve gotten through every night since the beginning of this nightmare, divorce my mind from my body and go numb.

Thirty or so minutes have passed.

No one has unlocked the door.

The gunfire is closer now.

Closer.

Then scuffling.

The latch is jiggling.

Finally.

The quicker, the better, then I can sleep. Or maybe tonight I will just let go and allow myself to die without my revenge, without ever seeing Mignon again.

Banging. Banging.

Something is striking metal.

The door rattles again, then crashes into the dust, landing askew against the chipboard wall. The masked man who stepped into the room had to force it open to enter. I cower in the corner, watching the blurry figure in fatigues and tactical gear – not the typical guerilla garb. There have been rumors about gangs raiding the brothels, killing their captors, and raping the women before killing them.

I recoil instinctively, and a short scream made its way out of my throat.

The man is coming closer, saying something. His mouth and nose are covered, and the gunfire and noise outside muffle his voice. My ears are ringing with fear. He is coming closer yet as I try to bury myself in the chipboard wall.

Until I hear his voice.

He pulls down the neckerchief. I see his face. HIS face.

It’s a dream. I must be dreaming.

The dream I never allowed myself.

Then let it be a dream I surrendered to. Throwing my arms around his neck, I hold on tight. I can’t let this dream go. I won’t.

I am lifted off the mattress and carried into the night. It feels like I’m floating as we cross the field. Of course, I am dreaming – or – I’m dead, and this is heaven.

But why would bullets be flying by us in heaven?

P-yung-zzee. P-yung-zzee. P-yung-Thwat.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Kate awoke, startled to see the face in her dream sitting next to her.

The diazepam was wearing off. Enos hated that she needed drugs, but what Kate had been through warranted taking away the pain, even if temporarily while she tried to heal, was justified.

“You…were dreaming.” Deep concern etched his face. The doctors had told him she would likely develop night terrors.

“I’ll be alright. How is your arm?”

“Stop worryin’ about me. Just a little ole flesh wound. I used to get worse climbin’ over Mizz Maudie’s fence to fish in her pond when I was a kid.”

“Liar.”

He smiled at that tiny glimpse of the old Kate.

“There’s somethin’ I’ve got to tell you. I talked to the air marshall while you were sleeping. He said once we’re getting’ rerouted to Atlanta.”

Alarmed, she opened her mouth to say something.

He reached out to take her hand. “I don’t know why. I’ll call in when we land and try to find out.”


	51. 51

**Part Three – Chapter Fifty One:**

**_Hazzard, Georgia – November 25, 2013_ **

Ty sat on the Coltranes’ front porch swing, his well-traveled leather messenger bag containing his laptop and recording equipment at his side. He’d brought it just in case the retired sheriff changed his mind and allowed him to take notes during their meeting.

Rosco rocked slowly and tried to give the appearance of the put-out-to-pasture country bumpkin lawman he thought the man would likely expect to find. _Mr. Tyrone Lambert’s hankering to tell the story in an episode of Crime and Punishment in the Deep South sure ‘nuff had the new sheriff in a tizzy. And with good reason considering the shenanigans of the last few days._

When he arrived, Mr. Lambert stated his case and seemed to be genuinely interested in telling the real story behind what happened back in ’98, one that didn’t sensationalize it. 

It wasn’t as if the events of those few days hadn’t landed Hazzard County all over the front-pages, as well as told and retold the story ten ways to Sunday on the national news channels for weeks afterward, none of it quite right and most of it dead-wrong.

But playing to Mr. Lambert’s agenda and motives was not the mission Rosco had set himself on today. The decent folks hurt most by the crime shouldn’t be forced through the punishment mill all over again. They got punished enough in ways that don’t leave scars on the outside.

He was pondering where to pick up his version of the tale that needed to be told when Sarah Jane emerged from the house with two cups of hot cider.

“Thank you, Mrs. Coltrane,” Ty said, taking the mug by its antler shaped handle.

“If you like fish and grits, Mr. Lambert, you’re welcome to stay for lunch.”

“Thank you. I look forward to trying it.”

Bending to hand Rosco his cider, Sarah Jane gave him a peck on the cheek.

Rosco held up his mug emblazoned with “Bassets Are the Bomb,” and said proudly, “Grandgirls give me one every year for Christmas. Got…what is it now Sweetcakes, fifteen so far?”

“Yes, dear. That one’s from 2003.”

“Oh, yeah. Those girls love their paw-paw. Kew. Kew.”

“And their maw-maw. I’ll call ya’ll directly when lunch is ready,” Sarah Jane said with her hand gently resting on Rosco’s shoulder and her attention on Ty.

The smile she gave him seemed warm, but he couldn’t have missed the coolness lurking in the corners of it or the apprehension in the look she gave her husband.

After the screen door closed behind her, Ty took a sip of his cider and said, “I don’t think Mrs. Coltrane is too keen on me being here.”

“She’s just tryin’ to keep the fox outta the henhouse.”

“At the risk of bringing out your wife’s protective instincts again, I’d like to repeat my request to take some notes before we move on to what happened next.”

“No need for that. You got all the facts and the evidence. I think you ought to just listen.”

“I brought my digital recorder. I could do both.”

“You are horrendously persistent, aren’t you, son? No…I think you should just listen – wouldn’t want to waste tape or paper on what I got to say.”

“But the recorder is digital. It doesn’t use–” Ty shook his head slightly and sighed. “Go ahead, Mr. Coltrane, we’ll do it your way.”

“Well now, let’s see, the plane was a couple hours or so from landin’ up there in New Jersey…”

**_Hazzard, Georgia – April 19, 1998_ **

The weather in Hazzard had cleared, sort of. Rain from the night before saturated the ground and left the driveway a muddy mess. Luke often talked about bringing in more crushed rock from the quarry, usually after a heavy rain, but never found enough hours in the day between the planting and his volunteer fireman duties. He’d also promised Sophie he would take Sundays off, at least as much as was possible on a working farm.

As Luke pulled the truck into the yard, Caleb caught Emily before she could unbuckle her seatbelt.

“Hold your horses, Em. The truck hasn’t even stopped yet. Mom, tell Emily to stop squirming.”

“Em, settle down and keep that seatbelt on ‘til we stop.”

“But I wanna go see the new baby goats.”

“They’re called ‘kids,’ brainless.”

“Caleb,” Luke warned.

Sophie peered over her shoulder into the back seat and lowered her brows. “Quit bein’ ugly to your sister.”

The boy crossed his arms over his chest in a huff that reminded her of Luke when he wanted to look put-out. Caleb would never admit to it, but he had begun to mimic a few of Luke’s mannerisms.

When the truck was parked, Sophie smiled at Emily. “Okay, Em, you can get out now.”

Free of restraint, Emily attacked the door handle. Luke hurried to help her from the seat before she could jump into the mud.

“But change into your play clothes first, young lady.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Emily leaped into Luke’s arms, then stuck her tongue out at her brother.

“Mom?!”

“Nevermind, Caleb, just go in and change. And mind the mud puddles.”

As soon as Luke deposited Em safely on the back porch, she shot into the house, whizzed past Daisy, and ran up the stairs to her room. A few seconds later, Caleb stomped into his room and closed the door behind him.

Sophie declared, “I swear, she’s getting wilder by the day.”

“Reminds me of Daisy when she was that age. Loved to play with the baby goats.”

“They’re called ‘kids,’” she said, mimicking Caleb.

“So, I hear.” Luke smiled and leaned over to sneak in a quick kiss.

When Luke and Sophie came in the back door, Daisy beamed a smile at her cousin and said, “I see it’s a typical Sunday at the Dukes.”

~~~~~*~~~~~

While Emily and Caleb donned their mud boots on the front porch steps, Caleb looked up to see vehicles coming up the road.

“Hey, Mom, Luke, we’re about to get company!” He yelled into the house.

Through the parlor window, Daisy watched Bo and Annie pulling up to the front porch in Uncle Jesse’s Ford pickup, followed by Rosco’s patrol car close on their tail.

Luke stood on the porch, looking much like Caleb had earlier when the truck and the sheriff’s car stopped at the bottom of the front steps. He expected Bo to be out of the car by then, but he and Annie appeared to be engaging in an intimate discussion he was reluctant to get in the middle of.

Caleb had run around to the passenger side and was peering into the cruiser’s front seat. The only thing he found was a shopping bag full of dog biscuits, a bottle of fancy-looking champagne chilling in a foam ice chest, and a black Stetson.

“Hey, Sheriff Coltrane,” he said, pulling his head out of the window, “where’s your dog?”

“Just never you mind where Flash III is, this is serious sheriff’s business. Now, you get on and leave us menfolk to talk.”

“Rosco, you got no call to talk to my...to talk to Caleb that way. This is his home, you’re the one showed up without a proper invite.”

“You just choke your engine down a notch, Luke Duke, b’fore I arrest you for interferin’ with an officer of the law.” Rosco narrowed his eyes and stuck out his chin.

Luke assumed his you-and-what-army stance. “You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“He’s not kiddin’.” Bo and Annie had approached from behind while Luke was squaring off with Rosco.

That was when Luke noticed Rosco was missing the gold tasseled epaulets, the braid, the gold lame’ neck scarf, _and_ the riding crop.

Daisy and Sophie had made their way onto the porch. “Caleb, get your sister, and ya’ll go on out to the barn. Please,” Sophie said, understanding the nine-year-old would resist not being included.

When they were safely out of earshot, Luke asked whoever would tell him, “What’s this all about?”

~~~~~*~~~~~

“Turk’s in Atlanta?” Daisy asked. The last she’d heard from him was after the operation in Turkey when he called to tell her Annie’s sister was safe. “Why would J…Turk call you first?”

“Cause it’s about oh-ficial police business. See...he’s meetin’ with Special Agent Johnson, you know from the Georgia Bureau...”

“We know who she is, Rosco,” Luke said. Reminders their landline was tapped stuck in his craw. He’d been tempted more than once in the past few weeks to take Bo’s approach and rip the damn thing out.

Bo cautioned, “Let him finish.” Since Rosco showed up at Annie's and interrupted them in the process of 'making up,' Bo had tried to pry the story out of him but he was a closed-mouthed as a cat after it swallowed the canary.

“Well, anyway,” Rosco continued, wary of Luke, “Turk said after he meets with the GBI he’s gonna’ be headed to Hazzard. Says he needs to talk to us, and he didn’t want to have to run all over the county.”

If Rosco had his druthers, he’d have been sittin’ next to Sarah Jane Bascom sippin’ French champagne right now. Turk’s call had interrupted a juncture in his serious-courtin’ plans. If Enos Strate could do it, so could he. He didn’t want to die a cantankerous, lonely old man. At least, he didn’t want to die a lonely one.

“What’s he got to talk to us about? What about not drawin’ attention?” Bo asked, setting his jaw, his Adam’s apple bobbing like a cork.

“I asked him, but he wouldn’t tell me a dadgum thing. But, from the sound of it, I got a feelin’ in my bones somethin’s up, and it’s none too good.”

~~~~~*~~~~~

The sky, gray for the past hour, had gone greenish before hail began peppering the roof. The sound was so loud, Turk could barely hear what Daisy was saying as he watched marble-sized ice balls bouncing on the ground like popping corn. He’d driven through the pea-sized version for the last five miles and just made it into the house from the rental car before the big stuff reigned down.

“Hope you took out the insurance!” Daisy shouted again, then heard herself loud and clear when the intensity of the popping decreased. “Car seems okay, though.”

“Yeah, and I’m okay too,” Turk said with mocking sarcasm.

She flashed her sweetest smile then handed him a towel she’d grabbed from the freshly folded laundry.

“Don’t be such a baby, Jay. I happen to know you have hail in southern California.”

“Every twenty years or so. When I was here in April before, the weather was perfect.”

“Welcome to Georgia, Sugar.”

Luke stood behind them, wondering, _‘...Jay?’_

“I hate to interrupt this little confab,” he said, “but you told Rosco you needed to talk to us.”

“Where are your kids?” Turk asked.

“Sophie sent them upstairs.”

~~~~~*~~~~~

Turk’s news sat with the Dukes about as he expected – not well. Not well at all. The only good thing that came out of it was his suggestion they disable the tap.

That Joseph Lance was as crooked as a dog’s hind legs _and_ probably three gallons of crazy in a two-gallon bucket was evident to both Bo and Luke. Daisy being a target because of Darcy Kincaid – that was a harder pill for them to swallow. And, as yet, Turk hadn’t given them the full story on why they believed Lance had abducted Inez De Pina.

Standing on the back porch, Turk could see the storm moving swiftly away, being sucked in a northeasterly direction away from Atlanta.

_‘Both flights should arrive on-time,’_ he thought.

While he contemplated how to tell Enos about the package the FBI had received the previous afternoon, Daisy quietly walked onto the porch and stood beside him.

“Jay, you don’t still think I killed Darcy, do you?” Her voice trembled, as did her hand when he took it.

Turk continued to look out toward the northeast and the disappearing storm clouds.

“No.” He said it with enough certainty to make her exhale in relief. “You know who did, though.”

“Like I said before, there’s nothing in this universe that will ever make me tell you or anyone else.” Daisy planned to take that knowledge with her to the grave.

“It wasn’t–”

“Of course not. How could you even…?” She stopped herself after thinking of all the ways she had failed to understand the real Enos Strate. “No, it wasn’t.”

This time, Turk exhaled a sigh of relief.

“Why would this Lance guy kidnap Inez? Did she find out who he was, like Kate?”

“Possibly. It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“Is that cop-speak for ‘that’s for me to know and you to find out’?”

“...Daze, I’m not trying to keep anything from your family that they need to know right now. But there’s a time for that, and this isn’t it.” He wrapped his fingers around her hand a little tighter and looked down at her with amber-brown eyes and a pained smile.

“Does Aaron know about his mother?”

From the short conversation he’d had with Aaron on the phone that morning, he had a sinking feeling the kid knew everything.

“That’s why I have to head back to Atlanta in a couple of hours. His plane is coming in an hour before Enos and Kate’s flight. And I’m probably going to get a call from Enos when they land in Newark to change planes. He’s been in the air for so long, he doesn’t know why they’re being rerouted.”

“You want me to go with you?”

“Wanting and having what you want isn’t quite the same, Daisy. You need to stay here. From what I know about Bo and Luke, they can keep you safer than I can right now. But we do need to talk before I leave. It’s a sure thing you’re going to hear more than any of you ever wanted to know pretty soon, I’m afraid. I think you should be prepared. Rosco and Emma collecting up a few gossip rags ain’t gonna’ cut it this time.”

A tingling sensation ran from the top of her spine down through her toes as the shuddering overtook her.

“Is it safe enough for us to take a walk down by the stream?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think we could do that.”

**_Newark, New Jersey – April 19, 1998_ **

Enos sat uneasily, hunched over in the seat of the VIP lounge with his mobile phone pressed against his ear. Kate and the air marshall had afforded him as much space as feasible for his phone call with Turk Adams. Ledger had minimal information about what was transpiring, and Kate could only make an educated guess. It was excruciating for them both to watch helplessly as he nearly folded in on himself.

“I understand…[pause]…Tell Aaron…[pause]…Okay…[pause]…Yeah, I’m okay. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

If the plane had been delayed for more than fifteen minutes, Ledger thought the man from Interpol might literally jump out of his own skin.

**_Hazzard, Georgia – April 19, 1998_ **

“I am _not_ bein’ selfish,” Bo said. He took Annie by both arms and held her facing him. They’d just made up; he wasn’t about to go bassackwards. “And you’re barkin’ up the wrong tree, ‘cause I swear to you on Uncle Jesse’s grave, I’m _not_ jealous of Kate. Annie. My sweet Annie, I don’t want to see you get hurt again. I’m tryin' to protect you.”

“By not telling me Kate’s been rescued until a few hours ago? And not telling me she’s on her way home!”

More than anything, Bo wanted to be able to make peace with the mess Kate had made, but the more Annie told him about her, the less he understood. He’d made a pact with himself to hold his tongue, but it was hard, and he’d been wrestling with his resentment for Kate since he found out about her.

“By not gettin’ your hopes up that you’re gonna be able to see her. I know how much you love her. Don’t matter what Luke or Daisy did, I’d still love ‘em. And I didn’t know anything about Enos bringin’ her back. You heard Turk, they’re keeping her under wraps until they can sort all this mess out with Enos’s old partner and that Detective Lane.”

“Lance”

“Whatever his name is. Doesn’t matter. I want to be with you more than anything. I love you, Annie! I want to marry you…for better or for worse. And I can’t think of much worse.”

“And if I have to relocate?”

“Then…I’ll go with you.” Bo was afraid his hesitation might signal he wasn’t sincere, but he hadn’t talked to Luke about the possibility yet.

“And what would Uncle Jesse say about you leaving your family?”

“He’d say I should do what my heart tells me to do. We all left at one time or another. Don’t mean we’ve left the family.”

“It wouldn’t be the same, and you know it.”

“Still don’t matter. Whatever we have to do, we do it together.”

“You’re right, Bo, it doesn’t matter. Because even though you can be a thick-headed jackass sometimes, I love you. So if you really want to marry me...”

“Oh, Annie, I do, I told you I love you, more than anything or anybody I’ve ever loved in my whole life.”

“More than that stupid orange car?”

“Even more than that,” he laughed.

Moving his hand behind her head, he pulled her mouth to his. With her arms around his neck, they fell onto his bed, intending to finish what Rosco had interrupted.

“We belong together,” he whispered.

“I know…I love you. But I can’t do this anymore.”

“Can’t do...what anymore?” He sprung up like Aunt Lavinia had caught them and pulled out her switch.

“I can’t hide anymore. I don’t _want_ to hide anymore. If you really want to marry me, then it has to be out in the open for the whole world to see…as Mignon Broussard.”

“I can do that. But you don’t mind if I still call you Annie do you, I kind of got used to it, and it seems to suit you better.”

“No, Bo, I don’t mind.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a knothead lately. I’ve just been…so scared of losin’ you.”

“I know,” she said, brushing her hands through the hair falling over his forehead.

“So, you’re not mad at me anymore?”

“Only if you promise to stop being mad at Katie. After all, if it wasn’t for her, Enos wouldn’t have brought me to Hazzard County in the first place.”

~~~~~*~~~~~

Daisy and Turk stood beside his rental car, a little too close for Luke’s comfort. Watching them from Emily’s second-floor bedroom window, he said, “Those two look thicker ’n thieves.”

“Told you something was brewing there,” Sophie said, while she reluctantly folded Emily’s pajamas into her aqua unicorn backpack.

The image of Daisy flying off to L.A. at the drop of a hat to explore her relationship with Enos hit him like a foul ball. Enos Strate and Turk Adams were both cops, through and through. Luke already had a bone to pick with one of them. The other had earned his resentment via guilt by association.

“That’s not funny.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny.” She flipped up her brows with a stare that signaled he had better take her seriously. The debate over whether or not she and the kids should be packed off to Sarah Jane’s house with Rosco had not gone her way...so far.

When Turk’s car was beyond the fenceline, and Daisy headed into the house, Luke had started toward the landing when Sophie stopped him.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“To get Bo and Annie out of Caleb’s room so he can pack.”

“Oh no, you don’t, Luke Duke. You stay right here ‘til they’re finished talking this out. Rosco can wait.”

“The sheriff doesn’t have to wait for us. We’re not going.”

Luke and Sophie had been so intent on each other, neither noticed Caleb standing at the threshold. Luke spun around and knelt in front of the boy.

“Your Mom and I think it would be best if she takes you and your sister away from the farm, just ‘til we can sort some things out.”

“Em’s scared. She doesn’t want to leave.”

Emily appeared beside him, a sweater tightly clutched in her left hand, her right holding Caleb’s arm in a death grip. Luke’s heart dropped into his stomach when he saw the pitiful look on Emily’s face.

“You make us leave, she’s just gonna’ be more scared,” Caleb declared in as grown-up a voice as he could manage.

How many times at nearly the same age had Luke begged to be allowed to go on shine runs with Uncle Jessie?

Luke looked to Sophie for support but found none. “Caleb, it’s hard to explain. If anything hap–”

“I’m nine, Luke, not stupid. I know what’s going on. A Duke’s in trouble, and Dukes stick together. Isn’t that what you’re always saying? If you make us leave, does that mean we’re not Dukes?”

~~~~~*~~~~~

The storms had passed, and none were expected over the next week. Daylight was waning into the sunset—light passing through the bay window spread into the room with a tangerine glow. It was warm and comforting–and all too calm.

No one was surprised when Luke announced that his wife and kids would be staying at the farm. Least of all, Bo, who’d sided with Sophie in the first place about sticking together. Luke took that with a grain of salt, thinking Bo was most likely trying to make points with Annie because she’d decided where she wanted to dig her foxhole.

Although discouraged, Rosco accepted the news without protest. His disappointment stemmed from a desire to reinforce Sarah Jane’s notion he had a responsible side by taking the kids under his wing. Ironic that she, Daisy Duke, and his sister Lulu, were the only people in Hazzard who thought he had one. In truth, he’d become, much to his own surprise, attached the little rug rats now residing at the Duke farm, especially the boy.

When Caleb skipped school one day a couple of months back, Rosco had found him at the old cotton mill checking out the spinning and weaving equipment left behind when the place closed. _Boy was a natural-born tinkerer if ever he saw one._ They’d both spent the rest of the school day playing hookey.

“You should stay for supper, Rosco,” Daisy said, lavishing him with attention as she had done for the last few months.

Luke and Bo both still scratched their heads at Team Daisy-and-Rosco. It was a bumfuzzling glitch in the matrix that was Hazzard.

“Thanks, Daisy, but I think I need to take a raincheck on that. I got a call from the State Police while ya’ll were upstairs,” he said to Bo and Luke, in no particular order. “They’re settin’ up roadblocks at all the major roads into Hazzard County.”

“What about the backroads? There’s twenty at least and more than that of old ridge runner roads,” Bo said, leaning on the back of Annie’s chair.

“We got that covered. Take care of you and yours. I’ll take care of the rest of the county. Now, I gotta go.”

Daisy took his arm and said, “I’ll walk you out.”

When they reached Rosco’s patrol car, she asked, “I need to let Uncle Frank and Aunt Judy know they’ll likely have company tonight. And, I thought since you don’t have to take the kids to Sarah Jane’s, it might be better comin’ from you.”

“I’ll take care of it. Not sure how I’m gonna’ explain it or how much I should tell ‘em, though.”

Daisy had to admit she’d faced the same dilemma.

He opened the door, then turned back to her, “You be careful, Daisy girl, you hear? If anything ever happened to you on my watch, Enos...well, the dipstick’d never speak to me again.” He stared at his boots. “…an’ I wouldn’t be any too happy about it neither. B’sides, sounds like he has enough crap on his cracker.”

“I know, Rosco, I’ll be careful,” she said and planted a kiss on his cheek.

**_Atlanta, Georgia – April 19,1998_ **

Aaron handled the questions thrown at him by Special Agent Johnson as well as a nineteen-year-old could, or should be expected to. He’d been raised by cops. Navigating challenging situations and being acutely aware of the dangers of the job was ingrained. It was only when Enos walked into the security office at Hartsfield- Jackson ahead of Kate and FBI Agent Stewart that his composure faltered.

“Dad–” Aaron spurted out as he practically hurled himself into Enos’s arms.

Enos drew him into a tight hug and waived Kate and Turk off when they saw him wince. Turk hadn’t provided Aaron with any details of the operation in Turkey, so he wasn’t aware of the bandaged, relatively fresh wound on Enos’s left bicep.

Stewart and Johnson gave them as much time as feasible, then reminded Turk of the need to get back to the business at hand, i.e. getting Kate Broussard proper medical attention then to a safe house and locating Joseph Lance and Inez De Pina.

After releasing Aaron to Enos and Turk, as representatives of Interpol and the Los Angeles Police Department, respectively, Kate was escorted to Grady Memorial Hospital by Tim Stewart. Kate was hesitant to leave the safety of Enos’s protection until he assured her he and Agent Stewart had worked together before when he was a sheriff’s deputy, and Stewart was with the GBI. To Enos, it seemed less like twelve years and more like an eternity ago.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Enos and Aaron wanted to stay in Atlanta, so they could be close to the investigation. Turk had to convince him that wasn’t the best idea by laying out the facts they had learned from the LAPD investigation in L.A.

“Mallory lobbied for his unit to be point on the investigation, with Thompson as lead detective,” Turk said. “Major Crimes had no alternative but to stand down since Lance is one of their own. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re all under intense scrutiny at the moment.”

“You mentioned on the phone there might be some new developments,” Enos said, looking through the case file of what was known so far.

“Maybe, when they’ve finished going through Lance’s apartment and his car. Found it a few hours ago.”

“Says here Lazzaro keeps a plane at an airport in Las Vegas.”

“Which is no longer there. LVPD is trying to get some information out of the hangar crew, but so far, they haven’t given up anything to confirm Lance or Inez were on the plane when it took off. But here’s something interesting. Under a bunch of shell corporations, Lazzaro also owns a hangar at Partridge Field at the Finchburg City Airport and several in other states: Missouri, North Dakota, New Mexico, Oklahoma.”

Enos mapped the states in his head, beginning at L.A. – to Las Vegas – to New Mexico – to Oklahoma.

“He’s headed for Atlanta alright, but what connection does he have to Niki Lazzaro?”

“Well, that’s the million-dollar question. And Thompson found the answer when he got a warrant for Lance’s safety deposit box…which contained, among other informative items we can talk about later, Lance’s birth certificate.”

~~~~~*~~~~~

After Turk had given him a rundown of the picture Thompson had puzzled together, Enos was ready to go home to Hazzard. When they reached the Hazzard County line and passed through the State Police checkpoint, Aaron pulled a letter from his coat pocket and handed it to Enos.

“Mom wrote me this letter three days ago…to prepare me…”

Enos was hesitant to take it at first, but Aaron’s expression convinced him he should. The letter wasn’t a long one, and Enos was a little overwhelmed by what she had written. It began with, ‘ _This is not going to be easy to hear…’_

It went on to give an account of what Aaron’s father had done and the evidence she had on Lazzaro that would be in the hands of the FBI _‘by the time you read this…’_

It ended with _, ‘…you have your Uncle E to rely on. He is a good man who loves you. And I know you love him. Return the necklace to E and tell him he is the second-best thing that ever happened in my life.’_

Aaron turned the envelope from which he had pulled the letter upside down over his palm. Out of it fell a gold chain with a Star of David pendant. Enos had given it to her to commemorate Aaron’s Bar Mitzvah when he was thirteen.

**_Hazzard, Georgia – April 20, 1998_ **

Long before sunrise, an umbrella of stars dotted the sky, and the only sound in the hills of North Georgia was the constant pulsating drone of insects. Crickets played the same nocturnal symphony in South Korea. Although it might require a bank loan to pay for the international charges, Enos was counting the minutes until he could call Soonie again for the third time since his plane landed in Atlanta.

Behind him, Judy Strate stood looking through the mesh of the screen door with a steaming mug in her hand, debating whether or not she should disturb the balance between her nephew and the night.

Enos’s aunt was a tall thin, soft-spoken woman with only slightly graying hair. She looked younger than her sixty-nine years but not because she tried. Judith Huckabee came from people who lived simply, read the Good Book, had straight-laced upbringings, and repudiated the imbibing of alcohol in all its forms and manifestations. Marrying into a moonshiner family fifty years ago had ostracized her from her own kin but never from her roots. Because he loved her to distraction, Frank gave up the shine business when they got married. She persevered within the Strate family and its penchant for running stills, as well as from the law. She and Frank had not been blessed with children of their own. When Frank’s brother Otis died, they suddenly found themselves the guardians of his teenage son.

The screen door creaked a little when she pushed it open, and the smell of fresh coffee slid with the night breeze in his direction. He moved the phone to his left side. Judy sat beside him on the top step in the dim light emanating from the small table lamp in the window.

Handing him the mug, she said, “I reckon you still like it with plenty of cream and sugar?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said and took the coffee. “Lots of things’ve changed in my life in the last year, but that’s not one of ‘em.”

“Some changes appear to go deeper’n others.”

“I still have my Georgia twang.”

“People in Korea might think that, but you and that boy both sound like California.”

He had to admit that it was probably true for the people who lived in Hazzard who likely got their view of Californians from television and movie stereotypes, the same as how people in California got theirs about the South. Hollywood rarely portrayed the truth.

“Thank you for lettin’ us stay here. Aaron needs to be somewhere people can’t get to him.”

That lieutenant friend of Enos’s had warned them that news reporters might try to get access to Aaron. Judy felt in her bones there must be a deeper, more ominous reason to get Aaron out of Atlanta, but she decided not to explore it. _‘Better is the end of a thing than its beginning, and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit,’_ she thought.

“This is your home, Nephew. We’re the ones should be thankin’ you.”

“My name might be on the deed, Aunt Judy, but this is your home. Yours and Uncle Frank’s. Mine is seven thousand miles away with my family.” If Enos could wish himself anywhere right now, it would be back in the small house with the funny looking roof in Goyang-si.

“It’s a right nice family you have.”

He smiled for the first time since his arrival while he drew the finger with Soonie’s ring into his left palm and surrounded it with his right as if embracing her.

“I know you and me haddin’ always seen eye to eye on some things,” she said, regretfully, “maybe lots of things, but me and your Uncle Frank, we’ve always been proud of you.”

“That…means a lot.” He’d said it with sincerity but was most grateful his aunt and uncle had not asked a lot of questions.

Before pouring the coffee, Judy had checked on the boy her nephew brought with him. Aaron had fallen asleep at last. From what she and Frank _had_ gleaned of the situation, it was not likely to be a restful slumber.

“The boy, Aaron. You been close for a long time?”

“Since he was eleven.”

“Close to his mama, too, looks like.”

“Yes, Ma’am. We’ve been through a lot together.”

“And she’s in bad trouble?”

All he could do was nod his head.

“Awful lot for a boy his age to be tryin’ to handle, but I reckon you know a bit about that.”

Enos nodded again, then looked at his watch. Two in the morning in Hazzard County. Five in the afternoon in the ROK. Soonie would be back from her twenty-two-week checkup, and Mizz Baek would have Gem fed.

“Man needs some privacy, Judy. Best let him be for a while.” It was Frank at the screen door.

~~~~~*~~~~~

A few miles from the Strate farm, Daisy lay awake at 4:00 am listening to the same musical recitation of insects. Sliding from under the covers, so as not to awaken Annie sleeping next to her, she tiptoed downstairs. Emily had slept with Sophie. Luke and Bo had taken the twins in Caleb’s room downstairs. They’d retrieved the rollaway bed from the attic for Caleb because he insisted he was old enough to help protect the family – and Luke was too overwhelmed by it to refuse.

Turk had been sitting vigil in rotation between the front and back porch throughout the night. The sight of him sitting there with his shoulder holster and Baretta under his leather jacket brought home to the Duke household how serious the situation was.

Knowing better than to sneak up on a cop like Jay, or Enos for that matter, Daisy turned on the light over the kitchen sink and made soft, non-threatening noises while she got the coffee pot ready.

When she came up behind him on the porch, he said, “Morning, Daisy. Did you get any sleep?”

“Some. How’d you know it was me?”

“Really? I heard your footsteps on the stairs and smelled your perfume as soon as you came down. I like the other one better. The one that smells like…what’s that blueie-purple spikey flower?”

“Hyacinth?” It was the only perfume she could remember wearing around Jay.

“Yeah, that smells good. The one you’re wearing now reminds me of soap.”

“That’s cause it is soap, idiot.” She chucked one of the swing’s throw pillows at his head.

He feigned a duck and said, “That coffee for me?”

“It was, but I’m not so sure now.”

He gave her the toothy grin he reserved for people he liked, and she handed him the cup. “One sugar, no cream.”

“You know it,” he said, taking a swig. “Can’t drink that ‘little bit of coffee in my cream’ swill Enos drinks.”

Before they could take the morning tete a tete any further into flirting territory, the fax machine modem signaled a transmission coming in. Disabling the phone tap on the landline had done two things: alleviated some of the stress on the Duke household, and allowed Turk to have a direct line to Thompson in Los Angeles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Better is the end of a thing than its beginning, and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.’ – Ecclesiastes 7:8


	52. Chapter Fifty Two

_**Part Three – Chapter Fifty Two:** _

**_April 20, 1998 – Hazzard, the Strate farm_ **

The light tinkling of wind chimes woke Enos after only a few hours of restless sleep. He often woke to the sound of Dragon’s head chimes that dripped from the four corners of their house in Goyang-si, and it set him thinking of her. The stimulus wouldn’t have mattered. It could have been a bird flying overhead or a pitchfork. He would have thought about Gem perched on his shoulders, tossing her first lost tooth onto the roof while singing the song of the magpie, or the small farm he and Soonie had visited the first month in Korea when they both needed a distraction. All roads led back to her, to them. He desperately wanted to take one of those, preferably the shortest and fastest.

But that was not to be today. Today he had responsibilities here, seven thousand miles of continent and ocean away. Now he wanted to hear her voice again and speak Spanish to her and…

He swallowed the hot, guilty lump at the back of his throat when he looked over at the empty bed. Aaron was already up. _Or had he never actually slept?_

Yesterday was a disaster, a complete and utter disaster. David Shapiro had not only let down his son, he’d put Aaron’s mother in an impossible position, one in which she had to choose between her oath as a police officer and her responsibilities as a mother. Aaron had learned things about his mother and his father in one fell swoop that must have cut him deep. _Had that been why David offered so little resistance to Enos taking charge of Aaron while Inez was recovering?_

David aside, for he had evaporated from his son’s life nine years ago, every good thing Aaron had thought about his mother would now be tainted.

Enos thought back on all the times he should have seen the signs. They were right there, all of them. _Had he been so wrapped up in how perfect the three of them seemed to be together that he’d ignored them, or worse, decided just not the see them?_ Soonie, who had no reservation about telling him the truth, said he was good at that.

When he’d been lonely, they’d filled the void. When he’d been sad, they had cheered him up. When he had needed them, they were there for him. But he left. He’d not been there for Inez or for Aaron when he most needed to be. Drained of energy and preoccupied, he hadn’t properly acknowledged the significance of the necklace either. He’d registered it, but he hadn’t reacted as he should have, as a _father_ should have.

Those thoughts plagued him as he sat on the edge of the bed and wondered _, ‘What kind of father will I be to Gem…to Esmé?’_

He and Soonie had chosen a name: Esmeralda. They had a ‘gem.’ Now they would have an ‘emerald.’

***

Enos emerged from the small guest room to the smell of fried country ham and redeye gravy. Aaron sat sullenly at the kitchen table across from Uncle Frank, and Aunt Judy hovered over a jet-black iron skillet cutting slices into hot cornbread.

Judy abandoned the activity when she noticed him and pointed to the chair next to Aaron. “Eggs’ll be ready in two shakes.”

“I’m not real hungry, Aunt Judy.”

“Pshaw. Not likely you’ve had a good meal since you left Korea. So, you sit.”

Enos appreciated the offhand compliment to his wife, even if Judy couldn’t bring herself to refer to Korea as his ‘home.’ The few times he and Soonie had phoned his aunt and uncle over the past six months, he had managed to allay their fears he’d been led astray. According to Daisy, they had taken to his marriage to Soonie better than to the news he had moved to such a wildly exotic place that, in Judy’s mind, might as well be Sodom or Gomorrah. He still wasn’t sure what Uncle Frank’s thoughts on the subject were, but if he was there long enough, there was a certainty he would find out.

So, Enos did as he was told and dutifully took the chair next to Aaron. After breakfast, eaten in anticipatory silence, he asked Aaron to take a walk with him.

“But shouldn’t we be trying to find Mom?”

An expression on the boy’s face made Enos realize the full extent of the shock he had received, that he was still processing. He saw anger behind those blue-green eyes, righteous and justified anger. A shrink would likely give it some psycho-babble name, but what it was, what it really was...

...his own failure to be there when Aaron faced the betrayal of one parent and possible loss of the other, for the second time in his young life. Any desperation of his own to find Inez would have to be set aside.

“There’s lots of law enforcement with better resources out there doin’ that. Right now, we need to talk a spell.”

***

The south field that stretched out in front of them, undulating gently over ten acres, had been freshly plowed-in with organics, soon to be planted in corn Uncle Frank grew to feed the pigs. Enos idly remembered that, according to the moon phase, the best time to plant corn in this part of Georgia was between April 24th and April 28th. Maybe they could lend a hand, at least for the next few days. It might take Aaron’s mind off what would likely take some time to sort out.

He had slipped back into Hazzard mode, as if the years had been stripped away, leaving his own nineteen-year-old self exposed. He picked up a clump of reddish dirt and crumbled it in his hand.

“Did you know?” Aaron said with a kind of sadness that broke Enos’s heart.

“No. At least nothin’ you could put a name to. I just knew somethin’ more was wrong between them than…than not wantin’ to be married to each other anymore.”

But Aaron had also known something was making his mother preoccupied, and it weighed him down with his own guilt that he’d not told Uncle E how worried he’d been.

“But she tells you everything.”

“Not everything. Not this. It wasn’t like that between us back then. Your Mom’s a strong woman; she doesn’t take help easy. Even after all these years, she never told me. I guess…as the years went by, she thought she was rid of it…that she had everything under control. She said as much in the letter.”

He’d re-read the letter again before leaving the guest room, trying to make sense of it.

“She…” Aaron started, his words hoarse and constrained by fear and confusion. “It sounded like she wasn’t going to see us again. Why else would she have returned the necklace?”

The necklace.

Enos’s hand went to the breast pocket of his shirt, where he’d put it this morning. Perhaps it was like a ring being returned in a divorce. She was distancing herself from him.

“Maybe it was _me_ she didn’t plan to see again. Not you. I think she just wanted to explain before you heard about it from some official source or worse, on the news.”

“She couldn’t have picked up the goddamn phone?!” Aaron picked up a stone and pitched it hard enough to shatter upon impact at a nearby boulder. “Or told me when I was there at the end of March!”

He sank to his knees in the red dirt and broke into anguished sobs. The vehemence with which Aaron hurled his words told Enos the boy’s anger was not directed only at his father. He was familiar with how hard it was to say the important things over something as impersonal as a telephone. It was cold and unforgiving and distant. Although the same could be said of a letter, there was a difference. He’d written over five hundred letters, never mailed because he could put on paper all the words he might not be able to say in person or on the phone. And that was on top of the letters he had burned – after Latoya, he wasn’t thinking straight. He understood why Inez might have chosen the written word to try and soften the blow before she had to face her son. At least she’d had the guts to send it. How could she have anticipated Lance would intervene before telling her side of the story in person.

“I wish I had the right answers for you. Looks like your Mom found herself between the devil and the deep blue sea and did the best she could to save the one person she loves most in this whole wide world. You should never doubt that she loves you. More than anything.”

With his knees in the dirt, Aaron bent his head. He went quiet for a time, his silent contemplation even harder for Enos to bear. It gave him too much time to think about the uncertainties, his own guilt, and how long a road he’d taken to come back from the self-recrimination once before. He didn’t want that for Aaron.

“You found Kate,” Aaron said finally, looking up at Enos, “You can find Mom.”

And there it was. He wanted ‘Dad’ to perform the same miracle for Inez.

“I didn’t do it alone. And if Kate hadn’t been where she was and part of an international sting operation, I’d probably still be lookin’.” He planted his own knees in the Georgia clay next to Aaron and said, “It doesn’t mean I’ll ever stop tryin’. There’s always room for hope.”

To his core, he believed that until presented with hard evidence to the contrary, hope can be your salvation. He also knew that false hope can destroy you.

Aaron fell into the arms of the only father he had known for so many years, heaving sobs into his chest. By the time Aaron cried himself out, Uncle Frank had appeared at the clearing at the end of the footpath that led back to the house.

“You left yer newfangled phone on the kitchen table.” He held up Enos’s mobile phone. “That lieutenant Adams friend of yers is on the line. Wants to speak at you.”

***

When Turk pulled up to the Strate house in the rental car, he found Enos and Aaron both waiting for him.

Standing next to the passenger door, Turk handed Enos the fax he’d received from Thompson earlier that morning. Then, gesturing with his head to Aaron, who was already in the back seat, said, “You sure this is a good idea?”

Enos had gone back and forth with himself over whether or not to take Aaron along. On the one hand, he wanted to protect him from intrusive questions that would only make the situation worse, and on the other hand, he didn’t want to keep any more from him. Even though the wound might still be raw, Aaron wasn’t a child anymore.

“Boy’s got a right to be involved.”

“Okay. You know him better than anyone.”

After reading the fax, which was short but not so sweet, Enos sank into the front passenger seat.

Thompson had hand-scrawled a note that announced:

David Shapiro picked up for questioning by the FBI early this morning while trying to flee West Virginia. His arrest is imminent – 18 to 24 hours.

Turk put the car in drive and murmured, “ _And the hits just keep on comin.”_ _40_

****

**_April 20, 1998 – Hazzard, the Duke farm_ **

Aaron was painfully silent those few miles between the Strate and the Duke farms. His father had done something very wrong. That it had put his mother in an ethical quagmire was a shadowy abstract. The news that David would be arrested by the _FBI_ within the next 24 hours made it concrete. The actuality was like a hard punch in the solar plexus.

When they arrived at the farm, Turk parked in front of the house, exited the car, and went inside to find Daisy, giving Enos and Aaron a few more minutes alone to collect themselves before facing the rest of the day.

Standing on the front porch, Enos was as apprehensive as Aaron, a young man with expectations that ‘Dad’ would never betray him or his mother the way his father had - both fortifying and frightening for Enos.

Once set on the path, there was no turning back for either of them.

***

With a sympathetic smile, Daisy opened the screen door to let them into the parlor where Turk stood speaking in low tones with Luke and Bo.

“Aaron, this is Daisy, Luke, and Bo Duke,” Enos said as Luke, with a solemn expression, put out his hand to Aaron. Bo followed suit.

With only Enos and Turk as their common link, Aaron was as much a stranger to them as they were to him. Under other circumstances, remedying that would not have been a problem for any of the Dukes or Aaron. Today, they were all hard-pressed to know the right thing to say.

All the while, Enos had one eye on Annie. As if anchoring herself to the table, she sat with her hands tightly knitted, suppressing the urge to leap over the obstacle and bombard him with questions about Katie.

“Excuse me, y’all, but I think I should talk to Mignon first. Aaron, you mind stayin’ here with Turk for a little while?”

“No, Sir.”

Aaron had gone stoic again. Enos saw that same look of forbearance on Soonie when he’d left for Turkey but had no time to dwell on it.

As Enos approached the table, Annie swallowed hard and stood up a little faster than she intended.

“I hardly know how I’m ever going to be able to thank you.” Her words came with tears and sniffles that caused Bo to move toward her, but Luke grabbed him by the arm.

“All I did was find her, Mignon. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

The resultant hugging of Kate’s rescuer went on for what seemed to Bo an unacceptably long time, yet Luke still held him back and in a low tone, said, “Let her be, Bo, till she’s ready to let go.”

Then, he herded Bo out onto the front porch, encouraging Daisy, Turk, and Aaron to follow him.

And Annie _did_ let Enos go. With the ice broken, she was able to pelt him with question after question about her sister’s health, her mental and emotional state, where she was right now, and when it might be possible to see her…it went on and on until she finally exhausted both of them. The questions and answers ceased only when she juxtaposed her happiness with what had brought Enos and Kate to Atlanta instead of Los Angeles.

“Mignon–” Enos said softly.

“Please, call me Annie.”

“Annie,” Enos corrected, “Kate wants to see you as much as you want to see her. Maybe more. But…she needs some time.” He hesitated. “And she’s helping with the investigations.”

“I know. But Katie was in that awful place for so long.”

He wanted to tell Annie that Kate counted herself as fortunate…lucky not to have suffered worse, been there longer, or for the rest of what for most of the women was a short life…but that would only reinforce her anguish about what Kate had gone through. Better that only he and Kate carried those images. He was ruminating on things that can never be unseen when Sophie reached the last step of the stairs.

Annie wiped her face with her palms and, pulling Enos over to the staircase, said, “This is Luke’s wife, Sophie.”

“I’m ever so pleased to meet you in person, Sophie. My wife wanted me to tell you that she’s lookin’ forward to meetin’ you. All of you,” he smiled toward Annie, then turned back to Sophie. “When my contract is up, and we come back to the States, we’d like to bring our girls to Hazzard for a visit. Eun-kyung, we call her Gem, is the same age as Emily.”

“I know. Em and Caleb are at school today. They’ll be sorry they missed you. Unless you’re going to be here through the afternoon.”

Turk had told him one of the administrative staff at their school was a former Marine buddy of Luke’s and that he was keeping a close eye on the kids.

“I guess it depends on how the day plays out.” He consulted his watch. “If y’all will excuse me, I think Bo and Luke have some things they need to get off their chests before Sheriff Rosco gets here.”

***

He’d been right. The reception from Bo and Luke was less than warm, and he wouldn’t have wanted to repeat that half-hour again for love or money; unless it was in exchange for Soonie’s love, in which case he’d have endured Bo and Luke’s vexations, then gladly walked through hellfire over brimstone.

By the time Rosco arrived around ten that morning, Enos was just ending a phone call. Turk and Aaron anxiously awaited a recap.

“Where are you headed next?” Enos asked into the phone and listened for the answer.

“Just keep in touch…and Tommy…Be careful. And mind what I said about Elektra.”

Rosco waited patiently, if not calmly, with Daisy in the corner of the room until he hung up.

Turk looked askew at Enos. “Elektra’s not with him…is she?”

“He didn’t want to leave her in L.A. We can talk about that later.”

Rosco murmured out of the side of his mouth to Daisy, “Who’s Elektra?”

“His girlfriend.”

Rosco cupped his hand over Daisy’s ear and whispered, “Enos is married. He can’t have a girlfriend.”

“She’s _Detective Thompson’s_ girlfriend,” Daisy said, reproachfully.

“Ohhhhh.” Rosco still hadn’t a clue but was relieved anyway. Ever since that boy was thirteen, he’d had to fight the women off with a stick. Rosco had been witness to it on more than a few occasions.

“He’s following Lance’s trail?” Aaron asked, oblivious to either Daisy or the Sheriff.

“Yep,” Enos said in typical Thompson style. “He’s in Oklahoma, headed for Missouri.”

“If Lance is in Missouri, isn’t _that_ where we should be?”

“Tommy’s just followin’ up leads, Aaron, trying to get ahead of Lance. I’m goin’ with Turk on this one. Sure as the sun rises, he’ll bring your Mom to us.”

Aaron looked to Turk for assurance. “What makes you so sure Lance is headed here? It doesn’t follow any kind of logic. Wouldn’t he go in the opposite direction, someplace no one would expect him to go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (40) "And the hits just keep on coming." is a quote from A Few Good Men, as well as the name of a 1972 song by Michael Nesmith (formerly of The Monkees). It is attributed to DJs who used it to transition between 'hit' songs on the radio.


	53. Pt 3 - Chapter 53

_**Part Three - Chapter Fifty Three:** _

Tangled webs are spun with secrets

And the spider is never far away.

[The](https://www.brainyquote.com/authors/winston-churchill-quotes) Author

**_April 20, 1998 – Hazzard, the Duke farm_ **

Turk had believed Lance’s final destination was Hazzard before Thompson started trailing him in that direction, even though the dots seemed to span the global map. The intricately laced connections reached back in time and further in the past than ’88. He was convinced it could all be traced back to ’86 when Darcy Kincaid was murdered…by a woman who might have been Daisy had another of his victims not done it first. Rape is about power, not sexual appetite. Enos had worked the case with the _GBI_. Only one woman, Daisy Mae Duke, who’d been dating Kincaid at the time, was brought in for questioning. Enos Strate, Deputy Sheriff, known as the only honest law enforcement officer in Hazzard County, was the alibi that eliminated her as a suspect.

Turk’s façade indicated a man cautiously formulating his response to Aaron – because Daisy had told him things only Enos had known previously. Daisy’s family didn’t know the whole story of how she had narrowly escaped Kincaid the night before he died. It wasn’t like she hadn’t been warned by her cousins and Enos to steer clear of him. How many women before her had not been so lucky? She only knew about the one. The one who, like herself and probably every other woman he had victimized, was too ashamed, too traumatized, and afraid to go to the Sheriff. Afraid of what her cousins would do to Darcy if they found out.

Daisy had confided to Turk that she sometimes wondered if it was Darcy’s murder that set her and Enos on divergent paths – Enos to pursue his dragons and her to find her way on her own.

“There are things about this jigsaw puzzle that we can’t talk about,” Enos told Aaron.

“Call it experience, call it gut instinct,” Turk added, grateful Enos had stepped in, “but we know what we know.”

Aaron understood that a cop’s gut could be as useful in an investigation as facts and evidence, but that didn’t make him any less anxious.

With Aaron and Enos out of earshot, Daisy asked, “Jay, what happens if Inez isn’t with him anymore?”

“We find Lance, we find Inez…or what he’s done with her,” Turk said. He wasn't cold or callous, just realistic.

Daisy shivered involuntarily.

But Tommy had told Enos much more. The search of Inez’s house, in particular her bedroom, was something they were trying to keep under wraps, but it would get out eventually.

There was little doubt that Lance had abducted Inez. _For what reason? Revenge or leverage? Some twisted agenda of Lazzaro’s to eliminate anyone who could testify against him? After all, it was the way he’d slipped through the net in the past, eliminating witnesses._

Taking Inez was insane, an act of desperation, and that made him doubly dangerous. Enos’s greatest fear was that Lance would not make the same mistake he’d made with Kate. Once Inez’s usefulness was exhausted, he _would_ kill her.

***

Rosco had brought old maps from way back in the 60s and 70s, when ‘revenuers’ roamed Hazzard and the surrounding counties rooting out stills and arresting ridge-runners.

“By the late 70s,” Enos told Aaron and Turk, “Treasury Department agents were usin’ infrared flights to cut stills cookin’ at night. By the early 80s, most large moonshine operations had been dismantled. When the government focused its attention on other unlawful activities, the moonshine trade resurfaced.”

“Illegal shine is still flowin,’ but these days it comes mostly from southwest Virginia,” Rosco added. “There’s no shine runnin’ through this county, no sir! ‘Cause I’d cuff um and stuff um.”

It occurred to Turk that not only was Enos’s own father a moonshiner, but they were having this conversation in the home of one of Hazzard County’s most successful ridge-runners. There was so much irony in Enos Strate’s life; it was hard to keep up sometimes.

“Y’all know the _GBI_ doesn’t think there’s anything to your notion that Lazzaro, or this slimy, no good, snake in the grass Lance, has a bead drawn on Hazzard County or the Dukes. They think we’re makin’ a mountain out of a molehill because that phone tap investigation went as nowhere as the old mine tunnels out in Skunk Holler.” Rosco bent over the map. “They got him headed for Atlanta. State Police are already talking about cuttin’ down on surveillance of the main roads into Hazzard.”

“But they can’t do that, Sheriff. They’ve only been watchin’ them for 24 hours. It’d leave the county wide open.”

“Maybe you should tell that Agent Johnson,” he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “about you know who.”

“Not my call to make. Or yours, either.” Enos gave him a stern look.

“Cool your jets, Enos. I was just askin.’ Besides, me and Sheriff Goodey and Sheriff MacDonald got together and convinced them to stay put for now. But, we’re on our own as far as these back roads go. And there’s the question of ‘how would Lance know the back roads?’”

Turk spoke up. “He’s Lazzaro’s nephew. Looks like Niki’s been groomin’ him for a long time. Lazzaro was also Darcy Kincaid’s boss. My bet is, he or somebody in his operation knows everything there is to know about this part of Georgia.”

Enos studied the map, thinking of all the times he‘d driven those roads, some of them no more than buggy paths, back in the days when his father was alive. Only ridge-runners could navigate ruts that jiggled your insides into jelly and cracked a truck’s axle easier than breaking a dry twig.

“What about deputizin’ some of the old-timers, or their kin?” Enos suggested.

Rosco looked at his former Deputy with one eye closed and the other squinted. “You been dippin’ into some bad buttermilk, Dipstick?”

“Hear him out, Rosco,” Turk said. “It makes sense.”

“And be the laughin’ stock of every self-respecting lawman from here to Kentucky?”

“Sheriff,” Enos said, “the old shine-runners know those hills better than either of us. They got away from us plenty of times.”

Rosco leaned in. “You and me both know it wasn’t like you were tryin’ real hard, now _was_ it?”

Aaron was learning more about Uncle E than he knew before. Enos had told him about where he grew up in a nostalgic context but rarely talked about his exploits as a Deputy for the county.

For instance, Aaron knew the best fishing spot at Hazzard Pond, that Alvin Dobbins was the biggest gossip in the county, that Emma Tisdale had been postmaster since the beginning of time and would likely be that until the Rapture. He knew that Daisy Duke, not his mother, had been the love of Uncle E’s life…until Soonie.

Enos had wanted to spend some time alone with Daisy, but by two in the afternoon, the jet lag and sleeplessness caught up with him. He had difficulty focusing. Rosco had left, convinced that deputizing any capable relations of moonshiner families had been _his_ idea and the only way to make thirty Deputies out of two…and for the county to foot the bill.

By nightfall, Enos received another call from Gordon Thompson. David Shapiro had been arrested earlier than expected. By eight the next morning, the Special Agent Johnson had arrived on the Hazzard County Sheriff’s Office's doorstep. Within two hours, the national and state news syndicates picked up the scent and, under the umbrella of ‘journalistic investigation,’ connected a whole lot of dots.

****

**_April 21, 1998 – Hazzard, the Strate farm_ **

“Why do you have to go?”

“Aunt Judy, it’s only a matter of time before the press finds out where we are. And they’ll be all over this farm.”

“But _where_ are you gonna’ go?”

“I can’t tell you that. If you don’t know, you don’t have to lie.”

Frank Strate stood in the doorway with his shotgun in its case and a box of shells. “Let him be, Judy. Nephew knows what he’s doin’.”

Enos hoped that was true. He never imagined when he reached out to Ginny that the need would be to secrete Aaron instead of Annie. He’d only had an hour or so to think it out. Turk would take care of any diversion at the Dukes’ if it came to that, and Rosco could hold off the press in town. Neither of them had any problem stretching the truth – Turk had worked undercover for years, so it was a tool of his trade; Rosco did it purely for the fun of pushing the limits of what he could get away with.

There was no time to think of everyone at once. Aaron was his primary focus until Tommy could get better intel on where Lance was and what he had done with Inez.

In the last hours of that night they’d hung suspended over a crevasse in North L.A., she had exacted from him a solemn promise. He never thought he would have to keep it.

****

**_April 21, 1998 – Chattahoochee National Forest_ **

Enos parked Frank’s old work truck under the camouflaged cover close to the gravel access road. The area was remote to the extent traffic amounted to two vehicles on a busy day, so also quiet. Any sound would carry a long distance out there.

It was two in the morning in Goyang-si, so he hadn’t wanted to wake Soonie just to talk to her. She would only worry. He could hike down to get a signal later when she would be awake.

Aaron, who had followed Enos’s instructions without protest, and had been quietly compliant for most of the trip, finally spoke. “I know we went north, but where are we exactly?”

“About thirty miles northwest of Dahlonega. Small county, not many people, deep woods. People get lost up here even with a map and a compass.”

Aaron had given up arguing about how they should be looking for his mother, not traipsing around the woods like Grizzly Adams. When ‘Dad’ made up his mind about something, not much would change it. _Mom called him a ‘force of nature.’_

“So, where do we go from here?”

Enos pulled the shotgun and shells from behind the seat and pointed. “Up.”

The hike from where Enos had left Frank’s truck to the cabin was just shy of a mile. The half-mile trek took about twenty-five minutes through the circuitous route that took them in a zig-zag pattern to cover their tracks. He and Aaron had hiked three times that in Big Sur.

“Why all the effort to cover our tracks?”

“I taught you this, Aaron. When you’re off-trail hikin’, never go over the same steps twice. Besides, I don’t want to do anything that’ll make it necessary for the railroad to abandon usin’ this place down the line. It’s just till we get a ways up, then the trail will be clear where it’s hidden from the road and from the air.”

***

Contrary to Aaron’s limited expectations, the cabin was warm, reasonably comfortable, and recently stocked with provisions. There was no electricity, only propane for the water heater and the small gas stove.

“You said this cabin is part of an underground railroad?”

“For families, mostly women and kids, runnin’ from somethin,’ usually an abusive husband or boyfriend. This place is for families whose batterers are…police officers or somebody with connections in high places,” Enos answered ruefully, ashamed that his profession harbored such monsters. “Usually, just a night stopover, like most of the safe houses along the line.”

The cabin was only one room. The privy, Aaron had been informed, was a good 500 feet from the cabin. Again he wondered how women with small children could brave the elements on winter nights. _Maybe the cabin wasn’t used in cold weather. But then, he thought, it would have to be, wouldn’t it, if families needed a safe place to stay on short notice?_

“Not exactly legal, is it?”

“No. Harboring fugitives is most definitely illegal.”

“But, you know enough about it to know who to contact.”

“There’s some things that have to be done ‘cause it’s what’s right. The law’s not always just, and justice ain’t always lawful.”

Natural curiosity kept Aaron’s mind occupied for a few minutes until Enos asked him to bring in some firewood from the stack out front, which kept his mind from wandering back to fears for his mother’s safety, at least for the duration of the task.

****

**_April 22, 1998 – Goyang-si, Republic of Korea (Korea Time)_ **

Baek Sung-mi was scuttering around the kitchen preparing the morning meal, which had become a strange mixture of California-style and Korean-traditional cuisine at the Strate household. Stranger still because Soonie preferred a breakfast burrito (minus the spicy Mexican french fries due to the queasy stomach) or an acai bowl. In contrast, Enos liked Korean _banchan_ (the spicier, the better) and enjoyed the array of side dishes set before him every day. Gem had taken up the practice of sampling both fare.

They had abandoned using the traditional Korean dining table, with its low-lying humility, in favor of one of Western height to which she and Enos were both more accustomed. Also, it was becoming increasingly more challenging for her to get up from the floor once seated. Secretly, although he would not have said, Enos had been grateful when she suggested an additional mattress layer for their low-profile platform bed as well.

When Soonie had showered and dressed, Ms. Baek steered her to the small kitchen where Eun-kyung was waiting with palpable anticipation.

“You must eat to keep up your strength, Kyung-soon. Before your husband calls,” Ms. Baek entreated.

“Will I be allowed to speak to _appa_ too?” Gem asked.

“Not this morning, little one,” Ms. Baek told her gently. “He will only have time to speak with _omma_.”

When Gem’s face fell in disappointment, Soonie tenderly cupped the little girl’s chin with her hand and said, “ _Appa_ is in a place where his phone will not operate inside. He must be outside, in the cold, to make the call. And it is almost nighttime there.”

“In Gee-or-gee- _ah_?” Gem struggled in the pronunciation.

“Yes, in Georgia. We would not want him to catch a cold because he stayed out in the weather for too long.”

“Ani.”

Meals at the Strate household were also a strange mixture of English and Korean. Soonie insisted Gem speak English as much as possible in preparation for the eventual move back to California, and Gem was quickly becoming one of Enos’s Korean language teachers.

****

**_April 21, 1998 – Chattahoochee National Forest_ **

Around 4:00 in the afternoon, Enos hiked down to the gravel road to make his phone calls. By the time he neared the roadside, the temperature had dropped a few degrees, and the fog was quickly rolling in. Refracted through the mist, the waning sunlight split through the trees and spread a host of sunbeams onto the forest floor as if angels were reaching out to Earth.

 _‘Good night for spider web hunting,’_ he thought, reflecting on the less complicated days of his early childhood.

The terminus of the 2,000-mile Appalachian Trail was a mere ten miles from where he was standing. The early-blooming mountain laurel covering many of the hills reminded him of cherry blossoms. Shortly before he left the peninsula, he and Soonie had made a trip by themselves to the _Hwagae Cherry Blossom Festival_ in _Gyeongsangnam-do_ to walk the ‘Marriage Road’ under the long stretch of cherry trees.

Because the distance covered seventeen time zones, the clocks in Goyang-si would read 7:00 am - tomorrow morning. Figuring that out was more difficult without his cheat sheet, but the concentration the task required gave him respite, not from _where_ they were but _why_ they were there.

During separations, which over the past four months had previously consisted of no more than three days and two nights, Enos and Soonie’s interaction on the phone was usually kept conversational. They could have been sitting together at the dinner table or in the small meditation garden they shared with three of their neighbors. It was how they maintained a balance between their private and professional lives.

The conversations since the rescue in Turkey had been different. Soonie knew he’d been wounded. He’d promised to tell her up-front about any threat to his safety, partly so that she could prepare herself, partly because she did not want to be sheltered. Enos not telling his wife things she would eventually find out anyway had an inevitable and absolute result.

***

“Soonie…” He nearly sighed with relief at the sound of her voice. “How are you feelin’, honey? Still able to keep your food down, I hope?”

She had only been working full days for the past three weeks. Until it began to subside, she’d been working half days because the morning sickness kept her tired and often dehydrated.

_“As long as I maintain the B-6 and ginger and drink plenty of coconut water, I can keep everything down. But you should not be worried about our baby or me...How is Aaron?”_

“Angry, confused…scared.” He stopped short of telling her how scared he was but figured she probably knew. Soonie didn’t miss much. “We’re both tryin’ to make sense of it all. Hope I made the right decision bringin’ him up here while Inez is still out there…somewhere.”

_“And what would the alternative have been, mi amor? Stay where he would be hounded by people shoving cameras and microphones in his face, asking ridiculously callous and misleading questions?”_

“I know…I know. But he’s countin’ on me to find his mother and keep her safe…not sure that’s even possible…not sure of a lot of things right now.”

Chilled by a sudden damp breath of wind, he shuddered.

“‘

“Oh, Soonie, I miss you somethin’ terrible...”

 _“I know.”_ Her voice was soft and soothing. “ _We miss you more. But you are you, and I love you for that. You will do what you must, then you will come home to us.”_

***

The call to Turk confirmed his decision. Several affiliate vans were parked quite visibly in downtown Hazzard and willing to take their ‘news’ from anyone who would give them the time of day _._

 _“To their credit,”_ Turk said _, “the residents of Hazzard have taken great pains to ignore the media…at least so far.”_ Enos might have been a curiosity to most of them, but he was _their_ curiosity. _“The only positive is that with all this high-profile attention, Lance would be a complete moron to attempt any move that would endanger Daisy.”_

Rosco and the _GBI_ hadn’t satiated their appetites either. And at the Strate farm, the press had been met by a stern-faced Uncle Frank with an array of menacing hay rakes attached to his tractor and at the Duke farm by two very pissed-off cousins with compound bows brandishing arrows tipped with dynamite.

****

**_April 22, 1998 – Seoul, Republic of Korea (Korea Time)_ **

Soonie boarded the subway at _Wondang Station_. The thirty-two-minute commute to work gave just enough time for the apprehension she’d felt upon ending the phone call with Enos to intensify. On approach to the _Gyeongbokgung Station_ in Seoul, apprehension turned to dread.

Reaching her office at 8:30, the first call she made was to the American Embassy. The second call went to the immigration attorney, and the third to Uncle Sang-Jun in San Francisco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “‘Suelta los pensamientos que no te hacen fuerte.’ Siempre estoy contigo en mi alma.”  
> Translate to English: unknown origin but used in multiple sites under keyword “Strength encouraging quotes” Translation: "‘Let go of the thoughts that do not make you strong.’ I am always with you in my soul."


	54. Part 3 - Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (41) Though you may be thinking of the movie, “The Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind” from 2004, Elektra is actually making reference to a poem by Alexander Pope, “Eloise to Abelard” written in 1717
> 
> "The Way You Look Tonight" is a song by Jerome Kern and Dorothy Fields, 1936 and sung by Frank Sinatra released in 1961
> 
> Reference to The Godfather:   
> "Revenge is a dish best served cold" – attributed to The Godfather’s Vito Corleone through his son, Michael but has been paraphrased in movies and literature many times, including The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion and Star Trek II, The Wrath of Kahn. The best I can tell from research is that the phrase originated with The French diplomat Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord (1754–1838) has been credited with the saying, "La vengeance est un met que l'on doit manger froid" ["Revenge is a dish that must be eaten cold"], albeit without supporting detail. en.wikipedia.org
> 
> (44) Margaritaville, Jimmy Buffett 1977 “Some people claim there’s a woman to blame but I know it’s my own damn fault.”

**_Part Three - Chapter Fifty Four:_ **

**_April 23, 1998 – Southeast of Atlanta_ **

The sun had topped the eastern horizon only an hour earlier when Thompson turned left onto GA-278 toward the Panthersville suburb of Atlanta. Elektra consulted the map once again to locate the turnoff that would take them to the hotel near the Georgia Bureau of Investigation’s headquarters. 

When they parked in a space across from the hotel lobby, he snapped at her for the third time since they left the interstate, and she called him on it.

“Sorry, just can’t wrap my head around it. Not wanting anyone to lie for him is one thing. Not telling Adams where he and the Shapiro kid are holed up is just straight-up stupid!”

She let him rant for a few more minutes, then asked, “You finished being righteously indignant?”

He tried to give her a smug look, but a half-assed smile escaped instead. “Nope.”

“Then, maybe we could channel all that righteous indignation into a more positive use of your energy, so you don’t go ape-shit on some poor secretary at the _GBI_ this afternoon?”

He shifted his gaze to the hotel entrance and put his hand on the door pull. “It’s broad daylight, and we’re still in the Bible Belt. You think they’ll want us to show a marriage license?”

“No one could accuse you of possessing a spotless mind. It’s 1998, not 1948.”41

“Except that it produced Strate. And considering the looks we got in Alabama…Just saying.”

Elektra had made it abundantly clear that she didn’t believe in the institution of marriage. It was _“a collection of platitudes and bromides accompanied by a license embued with a durability factor less than the paper it is printed on.”_

Considering his personal history, Tommy felt much the same, albeit for less philosophical reasons.

**_April 23, 1998 – Chattahoochee National Forest_ **

While Aaron finished washing the dishes and utensils they’d used for last night’s supper, Enos made himself busy inspecting the damage, probably from the last storm that came through, to one of the cabin’s windows. “Aaron, can you get the toolbox from the locker? I moved it over there, next to the fireplace.”

Aaron dried his hands, followed instructions without comment, placed the toolbox on the bench beside Enos, and went back to the mindless activity of re-washing the dishes he’d set in the drying rack only five minutes before. Enos followed his movements with concern, recognizing the symptoms. He’d been there.

Thursday morning had begun as Wednesday had passed, mundane chores, few words, and mindless activity. The loose stone in the fireplace had been mortared back into place. The loose boards on the porch had been replaced, and the roof had been patched. They were both trying to manage to get through the next minute, the next hour, without jumping out of their skins or down each other’s throats.

When Aaron dropped the plate he’d dried for the second time, it shattered when it hit the floor. He stood over the pieces, staring down at them until the last chard slid under the bed and came to rest next to the loaded shotgun. With as much vehemence as he had in him, he raged, “Who the f*** uses real plates anymore?!”

Enos chucked the hammer onto the bench and pointed to the door. “That’s it. You and me, out on the porch. Now.”

Again, Aaron followed instructions but slammed the door shut behind him. It wasn’t a first. But he’d been fourteen then, six feet of raging hormones with an attitude to match.

Slowly opening the door, Enos took a deep breath before stepping through, then took a seat beside Aaron on the opening in the porch rails, which served as the lone step. They both stared off into the woods, watching the squirrels jump from limb to limb, before saying anything.

It was Aaron who finally broke the impasse. “You know,” he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice, “when Mom decided you should keep your distance so the two of you could work together again, I got left out of the equation. _Neither_ of you _ever_ asked me what I thought about it.”

“I know, son. But I’m askin’ now.”

“Yeah, well, it sucked! Still sucks.” Some of Aaron’s anger had spent itself, but the hurt was still under the surface. At nineteen, he was a man in many ways. In other ways, he was still a boy scared out of his wits and lashing out at the nearest, easiest target.

“I guess…guess we thought you were occupied with other things, like college applications and senior year…proms and such.” 

“Sorry if that doesn’t make me feel any less pissed about it.” He’d been holding it in for a long time.

“You gotta right to be put out. Can’t offer any excuses for myself. But your Mom…you can’t go blamin’ her for everything. She’s your Mom. Be mad at me, not at her.”

“I’m not mad at her. Or you. At least not for that. It’s everything. You, Mom, this shitty situation my father put us all in.”

“Yeah, it is a shitty situation.”

Aaron rared back and looked at Enos in disbelieving amazement.

“What?”

“I just never heard you use profanity before.”

“Don’t mean I can’t when the occasion calls for it.”

Aaron returned to watching the squirrels. His voice low and shaky, he admitted, “I’m scared I’ll never see her again.”

“Me too.”

Aaron heaved a deep sigh. “I know.” He paused and sighed again. “I never gave up hoping…you and Mom…” His voice cracked, and a tear dropped from his right eye. “Did you ever love her?”

It’s not the things said that are our most profound regret, but those left unsaid, and Enos considered his next words well.

“Yes. I did. And I still do.” He felt Soonie’s wedding ring and clenched his left hand. “But there’s all kinds of love. The way I love your Mom is kind of the way I love Daisy. The forever and always kind, just not the in-love kind. You understand the difference?”

Aaron nodded his head with a sad acceptance. He had always known. Oh, the power of hope.

Enos put his hand on Aaron’s shoulder and gripped it to shake them both back to some semblance of calm.

“So…you haven’t told me how your classes are goin’? Calculus, differential equations, operatin’ systems…Discrete structures – you said in your last email that’s the one you hate.”

“Hate’s a strong word. I think I said I loathe it – so many proofs! Machine code. Now that’s interesting…”

For the next hour, Aaron expounded on C++ Language, 4Tran, and Unix Systems. Although Enos understood little about computer programming's technical side, the mostly one-sided conversation gave them both a chance to cool off.

When Aaron seemed to be winding down, Enos stood and dusted off his backside. “You ready to help me with that window now?”

As they worked, Inez was more on Enos’s mind now than she had been before.

**_April 23, 1998 – Hazzard, the Duke farm_ **

When Caleb got home from school at three, he’d changed into his farm clothes and joined Luke and Bo at the makeshift guard posts they’d established at the east and west ends of the drive. School had been abuzz about all the news vans, not all of it positive. But Caleb stood his ground, like a Duke. Not to be outdone, Emily tried to escape her mother’s notice several times to slip out and get a look at what all the excitement was. The last time, Turk grabbed her up before she made it off the front porch and carried her back into the house like a sack of potatoes.

“You sure you don’t want me to cuff her, Sophie?”

“If she escapes again, Lieutenant,” Sophie said, with her arms folded, “I might have to consider it.”

Emily, still draped over a chocolate giant’s shoulder, had to look down, wide-eyed, to meet her mother’s don’t-you-even expression. Turk deposited his load gently onto her feet, and she sped off past Daisy to the parlor, pressing her nose against the windowpane once again.

The newshounds lost the scent after two days of resistance from the locals, but they hadn’t given up the chase. And still, there had been no new information or sighting of Joseph Lance or Inez De Pina since Thompson lost their trail in Alabama. God knows where they went after that, none of which Turk wanted to share with Enos, who was scheduled to check in again at five. He could at least report to him that the ‘press,’ as an iconic a term as could be imagined, had become more low-key by late that afternoon.

He felt Daisy’s hand on his arm, a touch that felt cool, but made him warm. Her eyes looked unworldly, but he knew they were not. He knew what he wanted but, for more reasons than he could count, feared needing it.

“Jay, you look tired. Bo and Luke have this under control. Why don’t you go lay down in Caleb’s room? I’ll call you for supper when it’s ready.”

He nodded and went off to lay down in Caleb’s room.

***

Turk’s head hadn’t hit the pillow before his mind started working full tilt. Since the phone conversation with Thompson earlier, he couldn’t shake the feeling they were all missing something. It didn’t make any sense because Daisy was the key. She had to be. 

[[Accident – target – phone tap – Missouri – Alabama – N4288Z – brother – _the way you look tonight_ – 88 – 97 – twin – Daisy – 86 – wild card – Hebert – perverted bastards – car bomb – warehouse fire – brown eyes – Suwannee Transport – revenge – primary target…]]42

Red stickie notes floated around him.

[[Used – Inez – snuff film – Kincaid – Lance – old cases – blind alleys – Inez – modern slavery – murder wall – Elektra – emeralds – Frank Scanlon – Hazzard – Halloween – The Lizard…]]

Snippets of remembered information and niggles of doubt bombarded him.

He heard Aunt Olivia’s voice warning him about fishing in another man’s pond.

[[L.A. – Kate – Aaron – one stone – stupid – hit and run – _The Godfather_ – Daisy – Hazzard connection – MacGuffin – collateral – no witnesses – Shapiro – yellow string – filing – GBI Files – dots – _‘I was always gettin’ in the way’_ – L.A. connection – compromising photographs…]]43

Why take Inez?

[[Turkey – dark brown like mine – followed – Jane – Crum – Squiggy – $241.40 – green laundry – deputy – reports – Clepas – birth dates – Lance – keys – shipping container – Darcy – 86 – dead ends – dots – Atlanta connection – 88 – used – surveilled – torture – Inez…]]

Lance couldn’t have known about the package to the FBI…Why take Inez?

[[Daisy – red herrings – takedown – alibi – no – accident – takeover – Kate – cold case – gossip – like a brother – two by four – paparazzi tipped – lured – family – Black Sea – pond – 88 – trafficking – fishing – 88 – Daze – Jay – jail – basement – drug connection – missing warrant – thorns – meat and potatoes – primary target – videotape – robberies – Aaron – MacGuffin – phone tap – witness – brother – Daisy – fishing – salt…]]

***

Turk couldn’t hear Daisy trying to get his attention because he was chasing salt shakers while _Margaritaville_ blasted in his head.44

“Jay!” she said, loud enough to be heard in the kitchen.

Turk swung his legs to the floor and put his head in his hands.

“Jay,” Daisy said gently, and more quietly, “Were you having a nightmare?”

“No…uh…no. Just going over–” He saw the look of concern in her eyes. “I’m okay, Daisy.”

He stood to show her he was fine. She was close enough he could feel her breath on his chest. He had to look down to see her eyes. They were dark brown, like his.

“Supper’s on the table.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute. Just need to wash up.”

She turned, but he reached to catch her arm.

When she looked back, he said, “What the hell. You only live once,” and pulled her toward him.

***

He had no idea how long the kiss lasted, but when their lips parted, her arms were wrapped around his neck.

She whispered with that wicked-sweet mouth of hers, “What took you so long?”

“Longer than you think. Had to get a fishing license.”

“Huh?”

“Nevermind. We should go in before your cousins start getting curious. I think I could take Bo. Luke, on the other hand...”

“You’re such an idiot,” she said, pulling him toward the door.

“And I _definitely_ can’t take them both on at once.”

***

Suppertime had expanded over the past six months. With new additions of Sophie and the kids, and Rosco’s frequent visits around the time Sunday lunch was usually served, Luke had crafted another leaf for the dining room table. While the mashed potatoes, gravy, and family chatter were being passed around, Turk lapsed back into brooding over questions with no answers.

“Turk? Wasn’t Enos supposed to call around five?”

He looked over at Daisy and then at his watch. 5:15.

“Yeah, but his call with Soonie ran overtime last night. She’s dealing with some family drama of her own. Phone bill’s gonna smart.”

But 5:15 turned into 5:30, then 5:35 before the phone rang.

Daisy was not the only one at the table that caught the split second of alarm on his face when he saw the Caller _ID_.

“Soonie?”

“Soonie…you know I don’t understand Korean. Start again in English…How many times have you tried?...Have you tried Aaron’s...?”

He listened for about fifteen more seconds. Daisy froze.

“Soonie. Breathe. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. Probably just lost service. Stay by the phone. I’ll call you back…Give me fifteen minutes…Honey, give me fifteen minutes. Twenty tops. I promise I’ll call you back.”

Turk punched in Thompson’s mobile number. By the time he’d asked if Thompson had heard from Enos, Daisy was beside him.

He tried to call Enos and Aaron’s mobile phones. No answer. Aaron’s just went to voicemail.

Accident – target – brother – 86 – 88 – twin – primary – used – Kincaid – old cases – Inez – Lazzaro – Aaron – hit and run – cold revenge – always a thorn – smear campaign – birth dates – Lance – Darcy – 86 – 88 – used – surveilled – Inez – alibi – hit and run – takeover – cold case – family…

Red herrings – phone tap – blind alley – Emory – surveilled – lured – led by the nose…Buddy-roe…brother > primary target > Inez > Aaron > leverage > hostage ====

=== **BAIT**


	55. Part 3 - Chapter 55

**_Part Three - Chapter Fifty Five:_ **

**_April 23, 1998 – Chattahoochee National Forest_ **

Enos watched Aaron put the toolbox back in the locker by the fireplace and tried to keep his heart rate under control. It could go from slow and steady to ludicrous speed in a few seconds, and he wondered such a wrongly flippant thing just popped into his thoughts. Offering inappropriate humor in moments of crisis was something Inez would do – turning fear on its ear.

From the faint whistling outside, he knew the wind was picking up. Deer had been moving past the cabin and down the mountain for the past two days, adding to the forest sounds with their hooves softly crushing dew-crusted leaves, lightly grazing through the underbrush.

It was time to hike down to make phone calls. Grabbing his leather jacket from the hook next to the door, he felt the weight of the semi-automatic, Turk’s spare service weapon, in the right pocket.

“I’ll be back in about an hour,” he said to Aaron as he pulled a knit cap out of the left pocket and snugged it over his ears. “You can make us somethin’ to eat in the meantime.”

“Do you want the pork and beans or the ham and beans?”

He almost smiled. Aaron _was_ his mother’s son. “Why don’t we try Spaghettios tonight? Used to be your favorite.”

“Spaghettios it is.”

When Enos stepped onto the small porch landing, he was met with the surreal scene of Joseph Lance holding the limp, bedraggled body of Inez De Pina by the collar of her blazer. Enos’s hand went immediately for the gun, but Lance also had one, and it was pointed at Inez’s head.

Her wrists were bound, her face carpeted with blue and purple bruises from blows inflicted over several days. Crusted blood had seeped from the corners of her mouth. Slacks shredded below the knee, her legs were covered with scratches from being dragged. Both legs looked bent, and she was missing a shoe.

Before the bullet hit him, he only had time to register the sound of it leaving the barrel. Twenty-five years of training kicked in, and he instinctively moved a fraction to the left. The burning pain as the bullet ripped through his lower right torso, just above his appendix scar, knocked him to the deck of the porch. Then, he heard the shotgun discharge a shell. A deafening blast of wood sent tiny shards of shredded pine into his left eye.

When he could hear again, the pain in his eye and right side felt as if he was on fire. He heard Aaron begging for Lance to stop hurting his mother. When his wailing pleas stopped abruptly, Enos tried to move, to get to his feet, but the pain in his side kept him prone. The burning in his left eye stabbed through his brain like tiny daggers.

Still, he tried to get to his knees, but a hand gripped his collar. He was dragged across the threshold into the cabin and dumped onto the bedroll. Aaron shrieked obscenities at Lance. Through a shadowy haze of stars, Enos watched helplessly as Lance moved in on Aaron, battering him repeatedly with the stock of the shotgun until he slumped onto the floor. It was then he felt a body next to him and knew it was Inez.

He blacked out – for how long he didn’t know.

***

When he came to, Aaron was still on the floor, conscious, crying, and moaning, “Mom…Mom…” His left arm was mangled, and it looked as if a bone protruded from it.

“I’ll do whatever you want, Lance,” Enos pleaded. His voice had become dry and raspy, and he choked on the tears rolling down the back of his throat. “Just please don’t hurt them anymore.”

“Whatever I want…that’s rich. Like you did whatever you wanted with my brother?”

Enos’s head was spinning. Lance sat on his haunches next to them, his head skewed at an angle – better to come face to face with his prey, holding the Glock to Inez’s temple.

“Notoriously honest Deputy Strate gives a murderer an alibi, and nobody questions it.”

“Dad,” Aaron asked between gasps. “What’s he…talking about?”

“You didn’t know, kid? The man you thought was perfect all these years has feet of quicksand. He lied and let my brother’s killer get away with it. I can’t get to her, but you made yourself,” he grinned at Enos with a sickening malevolence, “and them, ducks in a barrel.”

At first blush, it seemed wildly far-fetched. But, strangely, it made a weird kind of sense. Lance’s birth certificate said he had a fraternal twin brother. Darcy had been adopted. If he hadn’t died, he’d be the same age as Lance...

“She didn’t…kill Dar...” Enos was fighting to think. “…wasn’t…lie…with me that night…found her after he tried to…”

It was too hard, even now – even if he’d had the breath or the strength to say it. He’d found Daisy in a state of panic, more upset that Luke and Bo, if they found out, would do something to land them in prison than she was about what had almost happened to her. Had Daisy not needed him more that night –

“But you know who shot him.” Lance was enjoying the spectacle with malignant calm.

“No…don’t.” He only suspected.

“Unlike the gullible yokels here in Georgia, I don’t believe you. I’ve seen your work. Underestimated you once – won’t happen again. I followed your movements for Niki for years after you and this bitch survived going over that cliff. I was all for finishing the job. But Niki said he had other plans – now I understand the method in his warped madness…,” he said, rising slowly to stand over them. “Enough talk. Just wanted your fan club to know who you really are before you all die in perfect family togetherness.”

When Lance stepped hard on Enos’s right side, his world was reduced to nothing but paralyzing pain. ~~~~

***

When the pain subsided enough to breathe, Enos was facing Inez. She moaned. The odor of rotten eggs reached his nostrils.

“Inez…wake up.” Enos’s voice was desperate and he was beginning to hyperventilate. His heart rate became rapid as he gulped air lace with fumes mixing with oxygen. Aaron was closer to the source and already feeling the effects.

“E…wha…,” she swallowed with great effort, “where’s Aar…” Her eyes closed.

“Inez…Where…Lance?”

She tried to speak but coughed up saliva and blood instead.

“No, stop,” he begged through hot, stinging tears. “I sorry. God…so sorry.” Sobbing uncontrollably, he moved his hand to her face, smoothing matted hair off her cheek. “…all my fault.”

“Aaron…?”

“…hurt bad…gas,” he coughed, making blood seep from his side wound, “where Lance?”

“…” she gurgled, belching a reddish mucous from her lungs. “...”

Smoke. Lance had set a log in the fireplace ablaze. The propane would ignite and the cabin would light up like a matchstick.

“E…get Aaron,” she heaved, sucking in bad air and bloody phlegm, and pierced him with eyes that demanded he keep his promise,”...out…”

“…gonna get out...All fus.”

It was difficult, but she managed to shake her head. “…legs brok…” She passed out again from the effort.

He pleaded with her to move, to help him, again and again in a crying jag he couldn’t stop. She was tiny; it shouldn’t be this hard. He dragged her another three inches before hot air drawn into his lungs stopped him. Unconscious, with both legs broken and probably severe internal injuries, Inez was dead weight, and he seemed to be making it worse. No matter how much he bargained with God or argued with himself or planned furiously how they could all get out together, he’d known from the instant he smelled the smoke what he had to do…Save Aaron.

At that moment, nothing else mattered.

Only Aaron…only Aaron…

…only Aaron, the child they raised together, the one who had to survive.

***

A thick brown crust had formed over the scratches on Inez’s cheek when he kissed it and whispered, “I love you.”

As he moved away from her and towards Aaron, he saw her only through a dark red blur. His eye stung like hell. Six feet of inching his body over rough-hewn floorboards seemed more like a mile. Wrapping Aaron’s shirttails around his hand, he balled up his fist and pulled him three feet to the table. Smoke was filling the cabin now, and blood was flowing down his own cheek by the time he’d pushed the rag rug off the trap door.

Aaron regained consciousness enough to understand that they were leaving his mother behind. He screamed to let him go and fought to get to her, but Enos held onto him tighter.

The heat and smoke became more intense. Enos took one last look at Inez and shoved Aaron down through the hole in the floor, then fell out after him.

**Intermezzo**

**_November 25, 2013 – Hazzard_ **

“The shotgun. Aaron?”

Rosco nodded. “Got off one shot b’fore Lance tackled him. Might’a come close to hittin’ him ‘cause when Lance busted through the door he lit into the boy.”

The cabin had been built over the framework of an old ridge-runner’s shack, back when communication wasn’t instantaneous and managing the forest was still done on horseback. Ironically, the structure’s origin was also how Frank Strate had finally located Enos and Aaron before any warrant to track their phones could be obtained. Through the overlapping moonshiner/underground railroad network, the word reached Jack Cole within two hours that Enos was in trouble. _Deputizin’ those old ridge-runners’ kin was the thing to do, alright._ The trap door had been for fast getaways from revenuers and any rival moonshiner without decent scruples.

When Enos pushed him through it, Aaron landed hard and lost consciousness purely from the pain until he woke in the woods, with Enos, muddled and already feverish, covering him with his body. Within seconds, Enos’s blood started soaking through to Aaron’s shirt.

 _‘There was something in the boy that night,’_ Rosco thought. _‘Maybe it was that “fight or flight” response like the textbooks say…runnin’ on adrenaline. Or maybe it was just plain, old-fashioned, dyed in the wool love.’_

No matter how terrified he was for his mother or how angry he was at his Dad for leaving her behind and despite the damage to his arm, Aaron pulled himself out from under Enos’s weight and got him on his back. Using his shirt to make a pressure bandage, he tightened it around the side wound to stem the bleeding, then bandaged Enos’s eye with his undershirt. When Aaron looked toward the cabin, it was in flames, and the heat was stifling, even from a distance. His mother was probably dead, but Enos was alive and in danger of bleeding out. Rosco, Turk, Luke, and Jack Cole had reached the half-way point by then, moving upward when they found Aaron headed down to the gravel road to find help.

It wasn’t easy for Rosco to walk this path again.

“When we got up there,” he started, “Enos wuddin’ in the woods where Aaron’ed left him. He’d dragged himself a few feet toward the cabin…scorched a bit from the heat. Me and Frank got him to a safe distance while Turk searched the woods for Lance. He kept tellin’ us Inez was still in there. The boy collapsed. It was Luke Duke that went in after her. Dangedest thing I ever saw. Grabbed one o’ the fire blankets outta his rescue kit, doused himself down with whatever water he could find, and just ran in. Got some burns on his arms and hands doin’ it.” Rosco took his handkerchief out of his pocket and collected the emotion draining from his nose.

 _It gutted Aaron when Luke crawled out of the blazing cabin with her - still alive_.

“…We could hear the helicopters gettin’ closer. Enos…he was in and out when they put her on the rescue basket. Right then, he wasn’t thinkin’ of nothin’ but that boy.”

Sarah Jane had taken up her crocheting on the settee and remained there as her husband trudged through such memories. Her crochet hook became more pugnacious with each plunge into the next loop.

“Enos was fightin’ the paramedics,” Rosco said, “’Cause they were tryin’ to take her necklace out of his hand…” Rosco’s mind was meandering, and his voice trailed off once again, as it had several times throughout the narrative.

“Star of David…”

Rosco stared at Ty. “That wuddin’ in the official record – never tagged as evidence. How’d you know?”

Remembering the object Enos had brought with him to focus on during his testimony before the Senate Committee, Ty answered, “Just an educated guess. Sorry I interrupted. Please, go on.”

“…The doc on the chopper had to put him to sleep. Said they had to anyway ta’ put that tube down his throat. Durin’ the first surgery…the one for the gunshot wound…doctors put him in a coma – cause o’ the damage to his eye. Didn’t do the eye surgery for another couple of days. He was under for four and a half days before they started bringin’ him out of it…

…By that time, his wife and the little girl had got to Atlanta. Later on, we heard what happened at the airport in Korea.”

Ty’s forehead furrowed. “There weren’t reporters at the Seoul airport...?”

“Nah. It was Soonie’s Daddy come ta’ stop her from takin’ Gem outta the country. But she’d already took care of that,” Rosco said, with pride. “Coo…he-hmmm…Some legal beagle from the American Embassy es-corted her and Gem to the airport ta’ see they didn’t have any trouble boardin’ that plane. After all, she was an American citizen and Gem’s legal guardian. Oh, her Daddy made all kinda threats, and I guess it got a might ugly…but Soonie had all the documents she needed. No legal way he could stop her. She got on that plane with Gem…an’ I don’t think she ever looked back.”

“As if that wasn’t enough…even with her more than five months along, that bevy of reporters she had to wade through when Daisy and Turk brought her to the hospital were a bit slack on their manners…flockin’ to peoples’ troubles like bears to a honey pot,” Sarah Jane mumbled to herself, but loud enough for Ty to notice.

“Sweetcakes,” her husband said, “about time you checked ta’ see if those itty-bitty porkers ’er all snug and warm in their blankets, don’tcha think? Gettin’ close to when we need to be at the ballfield.”

Without a word, Sarah Jane groaned and laid aside the half-finished afghan she was making for Yaya, then set off for the kitchen to check the oven. The last two rows would need to be unraveled and restarted anyway.

“Ya’ see, Sophie took our sweet Gem back to the farm with her. Everybody agreed she’d be less scared there than that three ringer at the hospital. Sophie said Gem didn’t really understand all of what was going on, ‘cept what Soonie’d tried to explain to her. Kept askin’ when she could see her Appa. That means ‘Daddy’ in Koh-rean. She spoke pretty good English, even back then…with a sorta Georgia sound to it.”

“Sheriff. I mean Mr. Coltrane,” Ty said, because Rosco had started coloring outside the lines. “We can finish this later.”

Rosco shook his head with authority.

“We’re almost done here, son. And once it’s done, I want it to be d.o.n.e. – done.”

Still hoping Sheriff Strate would allow him some time, he’d planned to stay overnight. Ty nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

Besides, the first inkling of an idea had formed. Ty’s interest had begun to stray beyond what the audience of _Crime and Punishment in the Deep South_ would expect or content that would fit into a one-hour time slot.


	56. Part 3 - Chapter 56 & Epilogue

**_April 29, 1998 – Atlanta, Grady Memorial_ **

Aaron had been dragged through the Chattahoochee Forest detritus so that the splinter fractures to his left arm required more than a few days of hospital stay due to the risk of infection.

He was quiet. Trying to process. Inez was pronounced dead in the helicopter on the way to the hospital. Turk, Thompson, and Elektra took turns staying at his side. One of them was always there to see that he was not badgered or harassed while he mourned. Although neither Aaron nor Inez were orthodox, a rabbi from an Atlanta synagogue assisted in whatever traditions were appropriate to observe under the circumstances.

Tommy sat with him most – when he wasn’t sitting in on interrogations of the myriad of cronies hauled in along with Lazzaro. It took a lot for Gordon Thompson to ask for favors. But on the second day, he swallowed his pride once again and called Elektra’s brother when issues developed with Aaron’s arm. Since Richard Van Der Pelt was an orthopedic surgeon at Los Angeles County General, he consulted with the doctors at Grady and assured Tommy that Aaron was in good hands. And if the Detective was willing to reach out to him after the scene in Clarissa’s bungalow, Richard could go the extra mile as well. Before Enos went into surgery the second time, Grady Memorial's opthalmologist had gone over the procedure with one of the top ophthalmic surgeons on the West Coast.

All Richard had asked in return was, “Just tell ‘Elektra’ it would be nice to hear from her now and then.”

***

The ICU waiting room had thinned out in four days. The family took turns standing their watches, fielding questions from the concerned citizens of Hazzard and Southern California, and the press.

While Jay and Tommy were chasing down leads to Lance’s whereabouts or working with the GBI, Daisy and Elektra made sure Soonie was taking care of herself and the baby. Daisy had tried to get her to let Turk take her back to the apartment she had rented, but Soonie refused to leave. Daisy couldn’t very well argue with that – she respected her for it, loved her for it. By the time she had arrived, what happened in the Chattahoochee was all over the news. The hospital staff was aware of the circumstances and tried to make her as comfortable as possible.

Daisy and Elektra were returning from getting coffee when they spotted Soonie in the corridor staring out the window into the small garden on the rooftop below.

“You should be sitting down,” Elektra scolded her.

“I am not made of glass, no matter what my husband tells you. I have been sitting for hours and needed to move around.” She smoothed her hand over her stomach. “ _She_ needed me to move around.”

“Have you heard anything yet? About when they plan to wake him up?” Daisy asked.

“I have not. One of his physicians is with him now. She could not commit to any timeframe until she consults with Doctor Jameson.”

Elektra asked, “Have you eaten? Daisy and I could bring you something from the cafeteria.”

“Gamsahabnida,” she said, then stopped herself. She had been speaking Korean more than English for six months. “Thank you. The nurse brought me some toast and grits.”

“You ate grits? I guess it’s something you can’t really mess up too bad.” Daisy quipped.

“You would be surprised. Baek Sung-mi refuses to make them. Therefore, I have found several ways to ‘mess them up.’ I am thankful Enos is equally fond of Korean breakfast.”

Startled by a reminder that she had more for which to be thankful, Soonie was struck with an involuntary palpitation she hoped only she noticed. She turned her wedding ring slowly with her thumb. As soon as was allowable, she had exchanged their bands so that Enos’s was back on his left fourth finger and hers was back where it belonged.

“Soonie?”

“I am fine. However, I believe I _will_ sit for a while.”

When Jay and Tommy walked off the elevator, the three women, Daisy on one side, Elektra on the other, and Soonie in the middle, were together in the sitting area in front of the window holding hands.

***

The clock ticked off two more hours before the anesthesiologist reversed the process, and Enos slowly began to make his way back to her. Throughout his journey, she spoke to him in three languages. Spanish when no one else was in the room, and English or Korean when they were not alone, which was only a few minutes now and then. The anesthesiologist and a nurse were there to monitor his vital signs and brain activity. He answered her twice, both times in Spanish… Perhaps neither the doctor nor the nurse understood Spanish. Under other circumstances she might have cared that someone else could be privy to such an intimate exchange.

In soft tones, she told him about everything from the new lamp she had bought for the house to how beautiful the day had become beyond the window.

***

The world in which Enos lived for four days had been a vivid series of the brightest day and the darkest night on a repeating cycle that only changed in the order which they came to him.

_He went to work every day in Los Angeles and returned home to Soonie in Goyang-si in the evening. He walked under the cherry trees with Soonie at lunchtime and was leaving a courtroom at five. He stopped for gas on LaCienega, then boarded the train to Seoul._

_Abruptly transported back in time, he sat on the front porch of the farm with his Dad. He hunted blackberries with Daisy, felt Soonie’s warmth next to him, sat in the park, hiked through an endless forest of trees with Aaron…_

_Then nothing but snow, like the test pattern on TV._

_He got into a punching match with Luke and rocked Gem to sleep… left Inez’s house after Christmas Eve dinner and nearly drowned in the river…was buried under a mountain of sand so that he couldn’t move, called out for his wife in Spanish, became a target on the firing range……_

_He walked under the cherry trees with Soonie at lunchtime and stopped for gas on LaCienega. He left Inez’s house and sat in the park. He became a target on the firing range, then sat on the porch of the farm…_

_He was vaguely aware of activity outside his nonsensical sleep-world. He was in his body, yet not in his body._

The first thing Enos remembered that seemed real was the muffled sound of chopper blades, like munitions being propelled from a machine gun. Then, snippets of voices between the puh-puh-puh came through – calm, detached, professional. _Why were they so calm?_

_Puh-puh-puh…..tiple……frac…..orth…puh-puh-puh-puh…….sec…..tim…...immobil….puh-puh-puh-puh-puh-puh-puh-puh…rap…..ee….duction…….airlife..kc……puh-puh-puh-puh-puh….vel one…evac two…eye pa……push…..eta……ady mem…..puh-puh-puh……._

Unlike what she had imagined, when Enos opened his right eye, there were only silent, anguished tears falling from it.

**_May 6, 1998 – Atlanta, Grady Memorial_ **

****

Enos wasn’t fully aware right away. That took nearly a week, during which he had bouts of confusion and short term memory loss. Each time he asked to see Inez, Soonie had to be the one to tell him she hadn’t made it.

He asked over and over where Aaron was. Soonie forbade anyone telling him Aaron didn’t want to see him. When he was told it was not yet possible, Enos would become surly and argumentative, sentencing them both to a ride on the emotional rollercoaster that was the first week of his consciousness.

Occasionally, thinking he was back in Korea, he would ask Soonie if he’d been in an accident. Then, the nurse would say something in a Georgia twang, and they would be back on the merry-go-round.

Though weakened by the struggle to come back, he began to put the events together that would help him to reassemble his life.

On Wednesday afternoon, Soonie was resting on the arm of the lounge chair when she felt something stroking her hair.

“How long have you been here, mi vida?” he asked.

Soonie carefully positioned herself next to Enos on the bed so that his hand could rest on her stomach before she answered.

“Nine days. Since last Monday.”

Esme’ rolled a foot or elbow under his touch, and he smiled, briefly, for the first time.

“You look tired. You should go home and sleep.”

She kissed him gently and leaned her forehead into his so that they touched and whispered, “I _am_ home, mi amor.”

**Epilogue**

****

**_Sunday, August 30, 1998_ **

He sat on the porch of the farm with Soonie or Gem for days after he was released from rehab, still plagued with cognitive issues, voids in his memory bank, and emotional numbness that caused his family deep concern. Occasionally, Judy got him to help her fold the laundry, and Frank got him to help in the barn. Luke stayed away for the first few weeks, until his burns healed and wouldn’t be a constant, vivid, reminder. After that, Luke visited every day, then fishing two or three times a week. These were all automatic motions, performed without spirit or enthusiasm.

Whenever Judy voiced her concerns about Enos’s woebegone state, he cautioned her, “Nephew’s got a long row to hoe. The field he’s plowin’ ain’t gonna git turned under overnight. So let ‘im be so he can git it done in his own time.”

Gem had difficulty understanding why Appa was so quiet and why he didn’t smile like he used to. But she was five, with a short attention span and new surroundings to explore. She loved the farm with its piglets and rides with Uncle Frank on the big tractor. She and Emily made red mud pies after it rained and built pine straw forts, which ultimately led to Soonie’s education on the treatment of chigger bites. Gem had also developed a fondness for everything Southern-fried, and corn fritters, quite similar to _Bakwan Jajung_ , were her favorite, especially with Omma’s Korean dipping sauce. One day in late July, while Soonie and Gem helped her prepare the batter for the delicacy, Judy’s worry for her nephew got the better of her. She’d been on tenterhooks about his lingering melancholy.

“Soonie. Could you get another bag of that corn from the freezer. I think we better make a double batch so there’s some left for the rest of us.” She was watching Gem lick her lips. “This little one’s bound to eat the first batch all by herself.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Soonie had come to appreciate the full meaning of using the honorific term ‘Ma’am’ while living at the farm. It was like bowing in Korea, a show of respect.

On her way back from the pantry, Soonie stopped to watch Enos sitting in a metal lawn chair in the yard swing, idly studying a large green Luna Moth that had attached itself to a tree trunk. She must have stood there long enough that Aunt Judy noticed. When Soonie returned with the bag of corn and wordlessly went back to mixing batter. The pressure was building, and Judy couldn’t keep a lid on the pot any longer.

“Don’t make any sense him sittin’ out there doin’ nothin’ but idlin’ and you doin’ nary to help him.”

“He needs time.”

“He needs prayer.”

“He prays in his own way. I cannot interfere. I can only be patient. I believe that is a virtue, is it not?”

“Bible quotin’s not seemly for those that don’t believe. Somethin’s got to be done to get him back to hisself. And prayer always works for me.”

Soonie sent batter flying when she slammed the spatula down beside the bowl.

“Geuleohge swiwossdamyeon jigeum jjeum-imyeonhaess-eul geos gatji anhnayo ?” she seethed.

There were angry tears on her flushed cheeks. The expression in her eyes dared Judy to respond. But the older woman was too shocked at the outburst from this woman whose manner had been quiet and reserved and whose forbearance had been something of a mystery to her.

“What is going on in here?” Frank asked, coming in the back door. “And where is the girl?”

Judy put her hand to her heart. “Merciful Heavens. I forgot she was here…”

Soonie immediately looked around for Gem, but she was not sitting at the table, where she had been witness to the exchange – and had understood.

Gem pulled her small backpack suitcase from under the bed in the bedroom she’d been given in the house of Appa’s uncle. Flipping the flap open, she rifled through pinafores and tights for the comic books she had packed when Baek Sung-mi wasn’t looking. Choosing one, she ran back into the living room, past the three adults like greased lightning, and out of the house before any of them could react.

Suddenly fearful, Frank started after Gem because she was headed straight for Nephew. Soonie stopped him. “No, please, let her go. He would never do anything to hurt her, Uncle.”

Standing in front of Enos, bespectacled Gem offered him the comic book and with the wisdom and insight that only a five-year-old possesses commanded, “Weed me the stowy, Daddy.”

***

When Soonie went into labor, Enos was recovered enough to be with her and even managed to keep from fainting in the delivery room. It was a scary place for a first-timer. Two weeks after Esme’ was born, they visited Pine Ridge Cemetery before heading to California.

Pine Ridge was a peaceful place. The summer heat had begun to wane slightly, and there was a soft breeze that rustled drying leaves. Daisy had brought a metal tin, two bunches of flowers, and a garden trowel. Enos had brought with him a Korean funeral urn.

They stopped first at the Strate family plot. The thick carpet of grass over both his parents’ graves had been mowed and the edges neatly manicured.

“Uncle Frank’s been takin’ good care of them,” Enos said, looking at her with a cover over one eye and a puppy dog expression in the other that made Daisy’s heart heavy in her chest. He still had a long road ahead. She was thankful that he had Soonie to walk it with him.

Removing the old flowers from the vase between the headstones, she replaced them with a generous fistful of freshly cut Blackeyed Susans. The bright yellow wildflowers that sprang up by the thousands in fields and on the roadsides in late Summer had been his mother’s favorite. Aunt Lavinia’s as well.

Uncle Jesse’s and Aunt Lavinia’s graves were closer to the cemetery's west perimeter, and Enos looked as if he was already tiring from the walk.

“Maybe we should go back,” Daisy said.

“No, I’ll be okay. I came here mostly for Uncle Jesse.”

“Okay, but you’ll tell me if it gets to be too much, won’t you? Soonie made me promise.”

He smiled weakly. “I will, Daisy.”

Kneeling or bending was still tricky. He could get down. Getting back up was doable, but would be a challenge. When they reached the graves, he handed Daisy the urn. There was a bronze marker embedded in the grass next to Jesse’s headstone. Daisy brushed a few early fallen oak leaves of the surface and read the inscription aloud:

PFC James Leroy Duke

United States Army

Born: May 20, 1929

Died: October 1952

A bronze Korean War Veteran medallion arose from the earth directly behind the plaque. It was similar to the World War II medallion noting Uncle Jesse’s military service.

Daisy knelt in front of the marker and dug the ground deep enough for the urn, and placed it in the hole. In Enos’s absence, and with the road clear of snow, Ji-Woon had been granted permission to get as close as safely feasible to Arrowhead Ridge. There he filled two identical funeral urns with soil and sent one back to Soonie in America.

“This is the best we could do for now, Uncle Jesse,” Enos said. “I wish it coulda been more.”

Daisy opened the biscuit tin and pulled out the metal Uncle Jesse always wore. He had left it to Luke. But before leaving for the cemetery, Luke, moved by Enos’s gesture and that of Ji-woon who he didn’t even know, gave it to Daisy to bury with Uncle Jamie’s urn.

After filling in the hole and smoothing the soil around it, Daisy stood and faced Enos.

“I brought something else,” she said.

Opening the tin again, she withdrew a ragged, stained Busy Bee order slip that had been folded and refolded many times and handed it over to him.

“Uncle Jesse left it to you because he thought you would keep it from falling into the wrong hands.”

He carefully unfolded the paper because it looked fragile enough to fall apart at the slightest mishandling.

Written there on the back of the slip, in Jesse’s hand, were two well-guarded, super-secret recipes. One was for his famous Smoked Pork, and the other for his infamous J.D. Special Sauce. (Emphasis on the ‘sauce,’ which had nothing to do with barbeque. It was for pure, premium 190 proof moonshine.)

While Enos stayed at the graveside a little longer, Daisy walked back to the car where Jay, Soonie, Gem, and baby Esme’ were waiting.

_***The End of the Beginning***_

Do you not think I would have done it by now if it had been so easy?

There was a whole running theme in the Hollywood movie about Jesse’s Barbeque sauce recipe. He thought of everything he could think of, even ‘pond scum’. No one ever found the barbeque sauce recipe – Cooter finally figured out that P.S. stood for ‘pickled scuppernongs.’ Enos’s favorie snack was the missing, secret ingredient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Geuleohge swiwossdamyeon jigeum jjeum-imyeonhaess-eul geos gatji anhnayo?” she seethed. Translates: "Do you not think I would have done it by now if it had been so easy?"
> 
> There was a whole running theme in the Hollywood movie about Jesse’s Barbeque sauce recipe. He thought of everything he could think of, even ‘pond scum’. No one ever found the barbeque sauce recipe – Cooter finally figured out that P.S. stood for ‘pickled scuppernongs.’ Enos’s favorite snack was the missing, secret ingredient.


	57. 15 Years Later...

**_15 Years Later……_ **

**_Over the years that followed, life went on while they all dared to live, love, and endure…_ **

****

**Radmilla Kozlova’s body was returned to her mother in Belarus in July 1998.

**Warren “Squiggy” Underwood never resurfaced – more than likely, he became dust in the Mojave Desert or shark food in the Pacific.

**There were many theories about how Lance found Enos and Aaron, but none was ever confirmed. Lazzaro wouldn’t tell them, and it would be hard for him to tell them now. Although Interpol issued a Red Notice on behalf of the Turkish government with a view to requesting extradition, Nicholas Alphonse Lazzaro died in the United States Penitentiary in Atlanta, Georgia, shortly after his conviction in January 1999 – prison justice for a pedophile was swift.

**Johen Orwin Clepas, aka Joseph Rowin Lance, disappeared into the night on April 23, 1998. Through an anonymous tip nearly two years later, his body was found and positively identified through DNA, in an abandoned barn in northern Wisconsin. It appeared he had committed suicide with Turk Adam’s spare service weapon. Turk Adams and Enos Strate, who were both questioned at the time, had rock-solid witnesses for their whereabouts before, at, and after his time of death.

**Luke and Sophie didn’t have any children together. Emily and Caleb retained their father’s surname, but no one ever dared to tell either of them they weren’t Dukes. Emily attended Georgia State College in Atlanta, and Caleb went back to the farm after he graduated from Georgia Tech – using his education to further the farm’s output. He became a volunteer fireman in Hazzard County, like Luke.

**Annie and Kate were finally reunited. Kate sold her restaurant in Los Angeles, what value there was left, and moved to her grandfather’s 17 acres in Louisiana. After a few years of reclusion, she again picked up the mantle in her own personal war against Human Trafficking. Kate stayed in close touch with Annie, Bo, and their children. When not traveling in connection to her work with the Center for Missing and Exploited Children, she visited Hazzard often. ~~~~

**After their marriage, Bo and Annie prospered in partnership with Cooter Davenport. They had three sons, James Lucas, Donald Jesse, and Jeremiah Wade. They had thirteen years together until she lost her battle with metastatic cancer in 2011. Bo missed her every day. With the help of Luke and Sophie, Bo was raising their three boys on his own. During the summer, he still took them to Kate’s to fish. Even though they were boys and would never admit it, they loved it when he would say, ‘hold on to your butts’ and head down the grade through their mother’s fairyland.

**Daisy and Turk lived on opposite ends of the country for a year while she completed her commitment to Emory University. Although Daisy would have gladly moved to California, he couldn’t bring himself to separate her from her family. He applied to the Atlanta Police Department and joined the drug enforcement unit in June 1999. They were married a month later. She was still the only one who called him Jay. Daisy continued her environmental work with Emory. In 2003, they adopted an eleven-year-old boy named Zane.

**Aaron went back to Boston to finish college. He lost his girlfriend, because he wouldn’t let her help him get through his grief, and buried himself in his studies until the media attention died down through Lazzaro’s trial. Enos attended his graduation in May 2001. He’d only wanted to be there, not try to make Aaron confront the thing that had kept them apart for three years. But when Aaron sought him out, Enos silently thanked Gordon Thompson, whose side trip to Boston while at a symposium in New York had accomplished what the mere passage of time could not. Aaron was recruited by a Silicon Valleytech firm and moved back to California. Aaron married and divorced in 2003. He was married again in 2007 – to the college girlfriend he’d lost after Inez died. He and Lisa became the parents of a daughter, Naomi Inez, and a son, Jacob Clark. David Shapiro turned states evidence and was released from prison within a year of his conviction. Even though Enos encouraged him to do so, Aaron never saw his biological father again and never wanted to.

**Soonie and Gem lived in Atlanta with Daisy while Enos was in the hospital. Gem visited the Duke farm often. She and Emily became friends and pen-pals, then email and text pals. A month after Esme’ was born, Enos and Soonie returned to Burbank. He was no longer with Interpol. Too much time had gone by during his recovery, and he wasn’t physically able yet to get back on with the Los Angelos Police Department. Between buying the property, the cost of getting full custody of Gem, and the medical expenses his benefits and insurance didn’t cover, their savings, and Soonie’s salary, could only go so far. They needed something to pay the bills, so he became a consultant for law enforcement and lawmakers, not knowing that the war on Human Trafficking would embody the next fifteen years of his professional life.

Soonie returned to her uncle’s accounting firm. No longer confining herself to her cubicle, she became a field auditor, even doing some work with her husband when traffickers dabbled in money laundering to fund their depraved operations. Slowly, as their family grew, the modest cabin at the base of the Verdugo Mountains became a five-bedroom ranch house that Daisy had dubbed Hazzard West on one of hers and Turk’s frequent visits.

Enos and Soonie never returned to Korea but kept in touch with her mother’s and her step-mother’s families, and corresponded regularly with Ji-woon and his family, as well as friends they had made while there. In 2009, a Korean exchange student lived with them for a year.

**Enos and Thompson worked together again, when Tommy took over the HTU after Lieutenant Rodriguez retired. When he became Captain Thompson just after he turned 45, Enos had the honor of pinning on his bars. Turk and Thompson didn’t give up the search for where the videotape was recorded or what happened to the little girl. They followed up on any lead that came their way with narrow results. Only technological advances and social media platforms led them to an attic in an upscale suburb of North Atlanta. Eventually, they identified the girl and found her body. Never under any illusion that their search would end any other way, they still hadn’t let it go.

Tommy and Elektra never married but continued living together – Elektra still didn’t believe love should be institutionalized, and Tommy just wanted her. He couldn’t father children because of the injuries he’d suffered at the hands of his step-father. They adopted two boys, Carl and John, siblings orphaned by domestic violence. Richard Van Der Pelt and his family attended the adoption ceremony.

**Aunt Judy and Uncle Frank had passed. Luke and Caleb helped to maintain the farm in a sort of barter system by using the fields as extra acreage for their own crops. When the farmhouse was remodeled to add a second story, Enos leased the land surrounding it to Caleb for a ridiculously reasonable fee.

****

**_Saturday, November 23, 2013 - Hazzard_ **

Nate Collins was still not finished painting the new lettering on his office door. From his desk, the name under the Hazzard County Law Enforcement Center logo read Enos Strate, Sher – backward.

Like the office, the Sheriff’s Department had changed quite a bit in twenty-six years. The County’s sixteen patrol vehicles were all equipped with mobile data terminals. The basement, where he had spent a lot of time back in the day when he was one of the only two county deputies, was in the process of becoming a law library and a fully digital resource center. Now, he had a Chief Deputy, two Captains managing four Deputies each, and a K-9 unit under his command.

Rifling through the exasperatingly tidy stack of papers and meticulously color-coded files on the desk and in the file baskets, he sighed and hit the intercom button for the outer office.

“Cade?” He asked as nicely as he could.

“Yes, Sheriff.”

“Where are the notes from the County Commissioner’s meeting?”

“Right-hand side, second drawer, third file from the top.”

“Thank you, Cade.”

“You’re welcome, Sheriff.”

The week before, he’d hired a young law student to be his administrative assistant. Cade was brilliant but had also proven in a short time to be a real eager beaver, uber-efficient nearly to the point of obsessive compulsion. Cade reminded Enos a little too much of himself at that age – except for the irritating neat freakishness. Then, a long-ago conversation with Gordon Thompson came to mind, so he decided to cut the kid some slack. His irritability was likely more because his wife had been out of town for three days, leaving him to deal with the sigogglin’ goings-on at home since she left. Of course, he hadn’t shared that bit of sarcasm with her on the phone last night. She had enough to worry about preparing for her testimony. Besides, it would probably all blow over before she got home, and they could have a nice family Thanksgiving week just like they planned.

Yaya, the youngest, started acting up a couple of days ago, and the hijinx just escalated since. Thursday evening, she came home, said she wasn’t hungry, and went straight to bed. The next morning, last day of school before the Thanksgiving break, she was crabby at breakfast. When he asked her if she wasn’t feeling good, she got snarky and shouted, “Like you would care,” just before she grabbed her backpack and stormed off to school, slamming the back door behind her. It didn’t fit her personality at all. Gigi was the queen of drama in the Strate household, not his sweet, happy-go-lucky, always full of sunshine little Peach Pit.

Friday evening, while he and the twins were watching a movie, Yaya turned the amplifier up on her electric guitar to a volume that shook the house like an earthquake, playing a mournful rendition of _California Dreamin'_ and singing _Wish [We] All Could Be California Girls_. The only one _not_ to have some complaint about moving away from California, Yaya loved it in Hazzard – said she never wanted to live anyplace else.

This morning, when Rue and Gigi were all excited about their Aunt Daisy getting in before Mom got home, Yaya stormed out of the kitchen and asked why _SHE_ had to come for Thanksgiving? And where was her husband anyway!?

Whatever _that_ had anything to do with anything.

It didn’t make any sense because Yaya and Daisy were besties, like two peas in a pod.

Her sisters had no idea what to make of it, either.

Then, he thought, ‘ _What if it’s female problems?’_ He blushed, and cringed, at the thought. ‘ _But she was too young for that, wasn’t she?’_ He was no good at that part of parenting girls at all!

He stood hesitantly outside her bedroom door before he tapped on it lightly.

“Peach Pit. What’s wrong, honey?”

“Go away.”

He looked down the stairwell and motioned for Esme’ to come up. When she reached the landing, he asked if she thought Yaya might be…might be…startin’…I mean––”

She stifled a giggle at how hard he was struggling to get the words out.

“Jeeze, Dad. You’ve been swimming in a sea of estrogen all these years, and you still can’t say ‘period’?”

“Dog paddlin’s more like it,” he said, crossing his arms. “Before I drown in it, you think you could help me out a little here and talk to your sister? I don’t wanna bother your Mama with this right now, and I have to get some work done at the office.”

“I’ll talk to her, Sheriff.”

He sighed with both relief and a plea for deliverance, then bent down to give her a quick kiss on the forehead before beating a hasty retreat. “Thanks, Pumpkin.”

Esme’ called after him, “Not a squash, Dad.”

Soonie wouldn’t get home _any_ too soon for him. He wished he could call her, but Judge Albright and the District Attorney wanted to be done with the prosecution’s witnesses before recessing for the holiday week. So, even though it was Saturday, she would be in court by now, with her phone off.

Ding dang-it. The notes were exactly where Cade said they’d be. After pulling out the file, he gave in to curiosity. Rosco had given him a key to the top drawer but hadn’t told him what was in it or why it was locked. Still, he hesitated before opening it. You never knew why Rosco did some things. He could have booby-trapped the dad-gum thing.

Instead of exploding snakes or a stink bomb, he found inside the drawer a still crisply folded LAPD dress uniform blouse complete with fruit salad, eight medal cases, and his citations. He pondered over the contents a few seconds, appreciating Rosco’s hidden depths, then closed the drawer and locked it again. That was another day, another time.

This week had been a string of constant reminders that life is short and rarely neat. Staring at him from the top of one of the tidy stacks of mail was another envelope from Tyrone Lambert. He knew what it contained without opening it. Ty wanted him to sign a release. With enough on his plate to choke a horse right now, he set the envelope aside – he would write a polite refusal, again, after the holiday. _Maybe this time it should be less polite._

His reflections were interrupted when Purdy Jenkins from the surplus store barged into his office.

“If you need to report something, there are proper channels,” Cade protested, following closely on Purdy’s heels.

“What I got to say is for Sheriff Strate, not some junior Deppity that ain’t her Daddy.”

Enos’s eyes narrowed. “What the heck are you goin’ on about, Purdy?”

“That girl o’ yours.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that. I got five.”

“The littlest one, with the short hair.”

“Yaya?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” he said, as agitated as he was when he stormed in.

“Just calm down, Purdy. Tell me what she’s allegedly done.”

“Ain’t no alle-jed about it. Got paint on my best pair of blue jeans.” He turned around to show Enos the red paint on his backside. “She was with Bo Duke’s middle boy. I saw um runnin’ away, her with the paintbrush in her hand, with my own two eyes.

Enos followed Purdy to the ‘crime scene’ and found in big letters, still dripping red paint, the words GO BACK TO CALIFORNIA SHERIFF STRA.

For a second, Enos admired, with fatherly pride, the stealth skills required to paint that many letters before being observed. Finally calming Purdy Jenkins down and offering to take care of having it removed or painting over it, he climbed behind the wheel of his Ford Interceptor and turned the key in the ignition. The first call he made was to Bo to tell him what had happened downtown and that he would call him back. He punched the phone icon on the steering wheel and instructed the car to, “Call home.”

“Where’s your little sister?” Enos asked when Gigi answered.

“I don’t know. I don’t have the Yaya watch today. I’m sure she’s here somewhere.”

“Giada Yeong Strate, tell me where your sister is, right now.”

“Okay, don’t lose your cool, Dad. I’ll find out.”

There was some shouting between her and her sisters before she came back on the landline. “Esmeralda,” she rolled the name off with a dramatic flourish, “says Yaya’s just going through a phase, and it wasn’t what you thought.”

Enos pinched the bridge of his nose and asked, “When was the last time...? Put Esme’ on the phone.”

A few frustrating seconds later, Esme’ came on. “I’m here, Dad.”

“When was the last time you saw Yaya?”

“An hour, maybe an hour and a half. She was in her room, sulking.”

“She’s not there now is she?”

“No, Sir.”

Enos huffed with frustration. “That’s because she and Donnie Duke were at the surplus store in Hazzard half an hour ago.”

“How the…?”

“When she gets home, call me. If Yaya doesn’t come home in fifteen minutes, call me. Call her friends from school and see if any of _them_ have heard from her or Donnie.”

“Yes, Sir.” When Esme’ hung up the landline, she and Rue and GiGi started making phone calls.

When Enos called Bo back, he was just as mystified as Enos was. Defacing private property wasn’t something Donnie would typically do either. At first, he grilled his oldest, thinking he had put them up to it. Bo said James was more like him, always getting into trouble and doing something wild and stupid, but Donnie was more like his mother. He missed Annie even more on these kinds of days.

“Hey, Bo, I got a call comin’ in from Rosco. Maybe he’s seen them. I’ll call you back.”

Sure enough. The kids had sought sanctuary with Paw Paw.

***

Soroya Sung-mi Strate turned nine in October. She was 4 feet 5 inches tall, with short brown hair and hazel eyes. They were actually more a very light brown, but she liked to refer to them as hazel. Soroya, which means ‘jewel’ in Persian, was her given name, but she preferred Yaya. That’s what her sisters had called her since before she could remember. Only Daddy called her Peach Pit, on account of she was born too early and had to live in an incubator for the first six weeks of her life.

The twins, Ruri and Giada, would be thirteen in a couple of weeks. They were named for gemstones too, lapis and jade, and thought they were hot stuff. Rue and Gigi moved to ‘the sticks’ under protest, till they found out they would be in high school, not still in middle school, next year. 

Esmeralda, who turned fifteen in August, was already in high school. It didn’t seem to matter to ‘her royal emerald highness’ at all where she lived as long as she could play her cello. Rue played flute and piccolo. Gigi preferred the electric keyboard but also played classical piano. Yaya was learning to play guitar, electric and acoustic…and Gem, the oldest, played the violin and fiddle like an angel…like Mama.

They had a big brother, but he was a lot older, like 34. Sometimes he and Daddy would go off camping in the San Gabriels, and one time they went all the way up to the northern tip of the Sierra Nevada. She asked to go along once, but Esme’ said Daddy and Aaron were going to their sad place. And Gem told her to stop asking questions, or she would tell Mama how the nail polish got inside her favorite pair of heels.

The first sight of Daddy wearing a gun on his hip was a little strange. Uncle Turk wore one when he was at work in Atlanta; Uncle Tommy wore his to work in L.A. But Daddy wore glasses and cried at sad movies. Then, Uncle Luke came to the ranch and talked him into running for Sheriff of Hazzard County so Paw Paw could retire. Now, Daddy wore glasses and a uniform and a star and a gun. He still cried at sad movies.

Everything considered the Strate girls had made the adjustment from living in California to living in Hazzard. They all missed Baek Sung-mi, from whom Yaya had gotten her middle name. She helped raise them but had passed away when Yaya was seven and a half. No one talked much about Grandfather Mun. Of the five of them, only Gem had ever met him.

Wednesday had been Mama and Daddy’s Sixteenth Anniversary. Only the official celebration would be on Thanksgiving this year. Mama was testifying in that trial because some guy put his money in the washer and wouldn’t be back from California until Sunday.

Rue said Hazzard wouldn’t know what hit it when their weird extended family was all together in one place. Family and friends would be descending on the County sometime during the following week…except for Gem. They tried not to talk about that too much either.

They all expected Caleb to be bummed because Gem was stuck in Iraq. The two of them thought nobody knew how much they Skyped each other. After all, they spent summers together since Gem was Yaya’s age and Caleb was twelve. EVERYBODY knew! But he was walking around looking like the cat that swallowed the canary.

Except for missing her oldest sister like crazy, most everything in Yaya’s life was hunky-dory until Thursday afternoon when she found out the awful truth.

***

Enos reached Rosco and Sarah Jane’s before Bo. The kids were safe, so he wanted to wait for Bo before confronting them. He could see Rosco peering out the living room window.

When Bo arrived, they went in together.

Sarah Jane showed them into the kitchen where Rosco sat at the small table, sucking the brine from a boiled peanut shell. He held it up to them.

“Have some, fellas. Oh, sorry Enos. Forgot your wife’s got you on that low-sodium diet.”

“Rosco?” Bo said, perturbed. “Where’s our kids?”

“They’re here. Scared o’ getting’ in trouble. So why don’t both of ya’ll just sit for a while and cool down before you talk to um? You’re not on some fool diet Bo. Have some peanuts. Copeland, down at the Busy Bee made a banner bunch. Um-um! Man can boil goobers. And that’s a fact.”

Although Bo was getting fidgety, Enos was used to Rosco’s peculiar way of grandparenting. While Bo paced, he sat on the chair across from Rosco and set his hat on the table. Taking out a lens cleaner, he wiped fresh smudges off his corrective lenses.

“Ya know, ya’ll wasn’t any choir boys growin’ up neither. No siree Bob. So I think you ought to remember that when you talk to those young’uns. Kew. Kew. I remember this one time––”

“Rosco,” Bo said, leaning on the table, “If common sense was lard, you wouldn’t be able to grease a pan.”

Just about that time, Sarah Jane ushered Yaya and Donnie in. When Rosco gave her a look, she said, “Hush,” then she nudged both of them forward to face up to their misdeed.

***

On the way home, the Sheriff’s SUV was all kinds of quiet. On Yaya’s part. Enos was listing all the reparations she and Donnie would be required to make and how she would be lucky to get two cups on a string when she was thirteen, let alone a smartphone. He wasn’t any better at the bad cop part of parenting than he was at the other thing. Soonie played bad cop. On the other hand, he usually melted to a gooey marshmallow whenever his babies turned on the waterworks or the charm. All they had to do was look at him with their Mama’s eyes, and he was a goner. But not this time. He was going to stand his ground.

When they got to the farm, Daisy had arrived. Yaya didn’t acknowledge her. She ran up to her room, threw herself on her bed, and cried into her pillow. Yaya would have called her mother in L.A., but the rule in the Strate household was ‘no cell phone until you’re thirteen.’ Rue and Gigi each got one for their birthday. And there were only two portables for the landline. One was in her parents’ bedroom – and that was _strictly_ off-limits. The other was downstairs, where Daddy and that hussy were eating supper.

After supper dishes were done, Daisy and Enos sat at the table while the girls went to their respective rooms.

“I’m sorry about this Daisy. I’ve probly said this ten times today, but I really don’t know what’s up with Yaya. Early in the week, all she could talk about was the holiday. ”

He picked up the photo of Gem in her desert camo off the piano, sighed, then gently put it back.

“You’re the investigator.” Daisy said, taking a sip of her tea. “When did things change?”

 _When had her attitude changed?_ _Had he been so busy with Sheriff’s business, he hadn’t noticed?_ Enos had become immune to the type of daily drama intrinsic to a house full of females. And in truth, he enjoyed every frenzied second of it – usually. _Right now? Not so much._

Before he could ruminate any further, his phone rang. He excused himself to Daisy and went onto the front porch to take Soonie’s call.

“Hey, honey.”

“Hey yourself. How is everything at home?”

He hesitated. “Like always. Never dull. Your testimony done? I mean, you comin’ home tomorrow on schedule?”

“I finished my testimony early this afternoon. But I will not be home tomorrow as planned.”

Enos heaved a long sigh before realizing he had audibly expressed the depth of his disappointment.

“Do you miss me, mi amor?”

“More than I can even tell you. When will you be able to come home? Is there some sorta weather delay at LAX or Atlanta? I haven’t checked in the last couple of hours.” He hurriedly scrolled his screen to open his weather app.

“No delay. I took an earlier flight and just deplaned. As soon as I collect my luggage, I will be on the way home.”

Enos could barely contain his excitement. Aside from whatever was going on with Yaya, he missed his wife like the dickens. Their bed had been a cold and lonely place without her.

“I don’t wanna keep you from doin’ what you need to get home as soon as you can. But I can wait long enough for you ta’ drive safe.”

“I will. Te amo.”

“I love you too, Honeysuckle. I’ll be so glad to have you home.”

They were all waiting for Soonie in the living room when she walked through the door. She was almost crushed in the hug-fest. Until Enos spirited her off to the kitchen and nearly suffocated her with a kiss.

“You _did_ miss me. Perhaps I should go out of town more often.”

“Oh, no you don’t. Not unless you’re under subpoena.”

“Technically, I was.”

He embraced her tightly again and buried his face in her neck.

“I think we should go back to Daisy and the girls,” Soonie said softly. “And where is Soroya?”

“We can talk about that later. I wanna stay here and smooch.”

She pushed him back, playfully. “You will change your mind if you go into the living room.” There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Soonie led him by the hand to a sight in desert camo that _almost_ rivaled his wife's presence.

“Gem!”

“How’d you get leave? When did you get back to the states? How was the flight? When did you leave Iraq? Why didn’t you tell us you were comin’ home?”

Enos peppered Gem with questions until she put her hands up to stop the barrage.

“My leave came through at the last minute. So, I wanted it to be a surprise.” She animated her expression and said toward her sisters, “Without it ending up in public going _viral_ before we have a chance to thaw the turkey.”

“Her plane landed just before mine. We found each other at baggage claim,” Soonie said, beaming.

They were all sitting in the kitchen while Daisy made coffee for everyone when Gem asked, “Where’s Yaya? She sleeping over at Em’s?”

Oops. In all the excitement, Yaya’s little escapades and her current whereabouts had been overshadowed.

 _Now_ Enos had to explain his inability to deal with a naughty nine-year-old to his wife and oldest daughter.

Afterward, Soonie kissed him on the cheek and said, “That is the other reason I caught an early flight. I had planned to do some Christmas shopping before I left Los Angeles, but I knew from the tone of your voice that something was going on at home that you were not telling me. I will go up and speak to her.”

She started toward the living room, but Gem said, “Mom, let me go. She might tell her big sister. I can surprise her.”

“With all the ruckus we’ve been makin’, I’m sure she already _knows_ you’re here,” Enos said.

Rue snorted. “Not if she has her earbuds in. Which she probably does.”

***

Rue, Gigi and Esme’ had all retreated to their rooms. Soonie had time to unpack and was back downstairs having coffee with Daisy, while Enos sat at the kitchen table twiddling his thumbs, wondering why it was taking so long. First, he was anxious to talk to Gem more. Second, how awful could it be for it to take this long? Third, what if it _was_ something awful and somebody had hurt his sweet girl? Then the years of working in the underbelly of humanity conjured up…

Gem appeared in the doorway with something in her hand.

“Well, I found out what’s bothering her.”

Enos was now almost afraid to ask. “What is it?”

“Apparently, she went home to Uncle Bo’s with Donnie after school on Thursday.”

“They went to Mizz Emma’s with Bo and Luke to move the furniture so the floors could be redone,” Enos said.

“Wait, they moved my furniture. I asked them to wait until I got here. I wanted Jay to be here, and he won’t get off shift until Wednesday afternoon.”

“I don’t know anything about when it should have been moved, Aunt Daisy, only that it was. Yaya and Donnie were exploring the house while Uncle Bo and Uncle Luke were going in and out with stuff.” She stretched out her arm toward Daisy and showed her a rolled-up piece of paper with a diamond ring around it. And she found this.”

“Oh my Good Lord.”

Enos shot up like a Roman candle on the Fourth of July. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Afraid so,” Daisy groaned.

“You kept it?”

Soonie smiled and said, “Of course she kept it. Did you expect her to throw it in the river?”

Enos sighed. He’d been doing a lot of it the past few days. Things started making sense; if you think like a nine-year-old girl, that is.

“For some idiotic reason only Yaya could come up with, she thought Aunt Daisy was coming in early to take you away from Mama. Especially since it was in a ‘secret hiding place.’”

“I’ll tell you later. Right now, we need to straighten that Yaya out on a few things.”

“No,” Enos said. “This is something her Daddy has to do.”

Reassuring Yaya about how much he loved her mother and how no woman in the Universe could take him away from her – no way, no how – was the easy part. The hard part was grounding her until Christmas.

She _had_ defaced private property. And he _was,_ after all _,_ the Sheriff of Hazzard County.

**_November 25, 2013 - Hazzard_ **

Ty helped Rosco load Sarah Jane’s contribution to the ballfield snack stand into the back seat of her bakery delivery truck. Rosco pulled out a manilla envelope, addressed to Sheriff E. Strate c/o Rosco Coltrane, to make room for the trays. Ignoring Sarah Jane’s reproachful gaze, he rode with Ty in his rental car.

Rosco was quiet most of the journey. Occasionally, he pointed out to Ty how much Hazzard had changed and yet, had stayed the same, a small community filled with people just trying to live the best they knew how. Hazzard County hadn’t become touristy like so many others capitalizing on their heritage. They’d weathered government taxers, depression, prohibition, two world wars, the 60s, and corrupt officials. _Like he once was_. Hazzard County had even survived its fifteen-plus minutes of national fame in ’98. ~~~~

Most of the changes to downtown Hazzard were the signs on the buildings, the lack of payphones and parking meters set to short-time the customer. Boss earned quite a bit of his ill-gotten gains through bogus parking tickets. After Boss died, local charities received large, anonymous donations, and the County had been running in the black for the last fifteen years.

Driving through the countryside toward the field, they passed million-dollar estates boasting their own private airstrips, with modest working farms sandwiched between them. He thought of Emma Tisdale when they passed by her house. She’d left it to Daisy. The sweet, itty-bitty pixie passed quietly away in her sleep at the respectably old age of 94, her motorcycle still under the carport. Rosco smiled at the thought of her perched on a crate next to a smoking drum of low-down dirty rags. ‘ _She was a peach. And that’s a fact.’_

Ty pulled up next to Sarah Jane and parked. With daylight disappearing earlier these days, the lights had already been turned on. Rosco got out to help with the snack trays, but Ty had beat him to it. He had a feeling about Ty from the first time he’d spoken to him on the phone. He was fairly sure his instincts had been good.

Once Mrs. Coltrane was satisfied with the dispensation of her contribution, she kissed her husband on the cheek. “I see Bertha Jo and Sophie are here. I’ll go say hey to them then I’ll come back to do my turn at the concession stand.”

“Say hey from me. I’ll be sittin’ close to the dugout.” Rosco said.

After his wife left, Rosco turned to Ty and asked, “You play baseball, Ty?”

The fact that it was the first time the man had called him by his name and not ‘son’ or ‘Mr. Lambert’ wasn’t lost on him.

“Yes, Sir. Long time ago.”

“Well, this ain’t gonna be what you’re used to. Just families havin’ fun. Some of Sheriff Strate’s family will be playin’, off and on. He and Soonie and their brood should be here somewhere. Don’t really have teams. They all take turns, whoever wants to play. Last year, Horace Rhuebottom’s littlest one, she’s only three got out there to play and ran off the filed with the ball. She was nearly out to the parking lot b’fore her Mama caught up with her.”

“Sounds like fun.”

Rosco waved to Tommy and Elektra. Tommy did a double-take when he recognized Ty. He was still eyeing him suspiciously when Elektra redirected his attention to Carl and John, who were about to leap off the back of the viewing stand.

“Looks like Aaron and his family made it in. That little girl of theirs is a cutie patooti. Bo and Luke must be around here somewhere. Saw both their trucks.”

If the former Sheriff was trying to impress on him that this might not be the right place or time to approach Sheriff Strate, he was doing an excellent job of it. Then, as if he’d planned it, the Sheriff’s oldest daughter, and what looked to be her boyfriend came up behind them and whispered, “What’s up, Paw Paw?”

“Gem!! What…where…when…?”

“I got in Saturday night.”

The HazzardNet wasn’t as lightning fast as it used to be and Enos had become adept at protecting his family’s privacy.

“Does your Maw Maw know you’re here? How long can you stay?” And pointing to Caleb holding her hand in a less than platonic grip, he asked, “And what’s this?”

“No, not yet. And until Thursday night. Then I’m being re-deployed to Afghanistan. And, ‘this’ is a surprise for later.”

Rosco was crestfallen.

“Cheer up, Paw Paw. We have four days. I have to go surprise Maw Maw now. This is fun. Love you…”

Rosco stood looking after them, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“Mr. Coltrane, I think I should be on my way now. You can tell Sheriff Strate he doesn’t need to worry about having to write any more respectful declinations. I think I’ve got the message.”

Rosco put his hand out to him, “Thought you might, Ty. Had a good feelin’ about you. Otherwise, you’da never made over the County line. And you can call me Rosco.”

“Well, Rosco. It was an…experience meeting you and your wife. I still think the story should be told. But not strained, drained and crammed into an hour.”

Rosco watched him pull out of the parking space and head out toward the main road. He pulled the manila envelope from inside his jacket and went to find Enos.

**_November 29, 2013 – Hazzard, the Strate Farm_ **

Soonie handed Enos a thermos of hot coffee and gave him another kiss. It was 4:00 _am_ and the rest of the household was still asleep, so they tried to keep their voices low.

“You have everything you need?” she asked.

“You always pack more than we need. Here,” he handed her a slip of paper. “Aaron’s waitin’ for me to pick him up.”

“I love you.”

“I love you. I’m only gonna be a phone call away.” He gave her one long kiss before leaving. “We’ll be back Sunday night.”

She waved goodbye to him and walked back into the house. She keyed the coordinates into her phone, stoked the fire, then threw the slip of paper in, watching until the fire consumed it. Enos had already burned the manila envelope. No fingerprints, no DNA, no trace evidence.

Letting him go on these sojourns with Aaron, unfettered by guilt, was the one way she could give back a tiny remnant of what she had taken away. Three days every year was a meager exchange for the life Soonie enjoyed with the man they both loved and the family that might have belonged to Inez had Enos not accompanied her to a gala on the Ides of March.


	58. Bonus Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Acknowledgments
> 
> I would be remiss if I did not attribute this story's unfolding to finding the fanfiction of and communicating with WENN9366. She inspired, encouraged, and challenged me to reach higher and farther than I ever thought I could – Thank you!
> 
> You can find WENN9366 DOH, Enos-centric fanfiction on this fanfiction.net:  
> Evergreen – in progress  
> Halls of Stone and Iron – complete  
> Before the Dawn – complete  
> Beneath the Hazzard Moon – complete  
> The Story of Us – complete  
> Hymn for Yesterday - complete
> 
> I would also like to thank my family, especially my oldest granddaughter, for their support, feedback, and suggestions throughout the process. My granddaughter also provided the poem for Uncle Jesse.  
> You can find ladyawsomesauce”s Destiny fanfiction on fanfiction.net:
> 
> By Choice, Not Chance: The Red War – in progress  
> By Choice, Not Chance: Fireteam Stories – in progress
> 
> ~~~~*~~~~
> 
> Love you all to Vulcan and back! (Oops, that’s my other passion.)

**_ December 24, 2020 – Upstate New York _ **

Tyrone Lambert reaches for a cup of coffee resting on the back of a disposable mask that already has three previous brown rings on it. He usually doesn't drink this much caffeine, but deadlines have their requirements. Christmas Eve is a busy time for his family, even in quarantine, and they are getting restless.

Storm warnings went up yesterday for heavy lake-effect snow. Ty needs to get the last lines of this email written. If the power goes out, they can still watch the movie using the generator, but he'll miss the window he set for himself to get this task behind him if the internet goes out.

His first book's draft, which he has yet to title, is due to his publishers the third week in January, and he very much wants to include this story. It was the inspiration for the collection, accounts of moments or years in people's lives that never made it into the documentaries he produced for the screen. The constriction of time slots required watering down or cutting entirely what Ty felt and still feels are the stories' bone and sinew.

Before he can include this account of a life that touched so many in ways few would have foretold, he has to procure a release. It has been seven years since he tried and was unsuccessful. Gave up, actually. Smiling to himself, he is glad to have backed off. Or this tome, even if it never includes the story that inspired it, would never have come into being.

Calls from the family room are getting more insistent that he turns off his computer so they can start the movie. _It's a Wonderful Life_ , in glorious black and white, is already in the _DVD_ player, waiting to be enjoyed.

It is a shame that Mr. Coltrane, who passed away in 2015, could not read what he had a hand in writing. He often felt Rosco standing over his shoulder, watching, while he typed the words.

After keying in the email address to the Sheriff's private account, Ty attaches the _pdf_ file, and lingers over the 'send' icon with his cursor. The answer might still be no, but he has to try.

It's what the Sheriff would do.


End file.
